


Raised by Wolves not by Fish

by Huntsman8888



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Character Death, Creampie, F/M, Harems, Kinks, Multi, Oral Sex, Pregnancy, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntsman8888/pseuds/Huntsman8888
Summary: Jon Snow was never meant to be more then a Nights Watchmen. But fate is changed when is maternal grandmother, Lyarra Stark, raises him. No longer beholden to his stepmother, Jon is allowed to be what fate did not allow him to be. A warrior, a Lord, Husband and father and his true self. King Daeron the third, king of the first men.





	1. Don't mess with the Mama Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, hope you enjoy this fic. Just a fair warning, not for fans of the Tullys (minus blackfish) or sansa. His is a story of Jon rising from a false Bastard to a lord to a connamlnder to a general and maybe king. The first chapter is the end of the rebellion and some bad times for Catelyn. Enjoy.

“Talking (Common Tongue)”

_ “Thinking” _

** _“Letters and book text”_ **

**“Talking (Old Tongue)”**

** _“Famous Weapon or ship”_ **

** _“Talking (High Valyrian)”_ **

**“Talking (Bastard Valyrian)”**

* * *

Eddard Stark sighed as he read through the reports from his Lords, it seemed as though everything was as usual for the Northern Kingdom of Westeros, if it were not for his nephew, raised Bastard son, Daeron Targaryen , or Jon Snow. Finding his little sister in the tower of joy had been far from what he had hoped for, he had expected to find her in a cell, underfed and maybe wounded. He had not even thought to find her in a birthing bed, giving birth to Rhaegar’s son, his trueborn son. The truth of what is sister had done broke his heart, she had chosen love over duty and the realm had bled for it, and now his sister was gone and he had an infant king to care for. It had been tempting, so very tempting to just leave the babe with another. To just leave him with Howland or even have Benjen take the boy to the wall with him, and one day take the vows of a Night's Watch brother, to let Rhaegar’s legacy, and by extension the Targaryen legacy, end with him.

Before he could even talk to Benjen the babe had been stolen from him by none other than his mother. Lyarra Stark had come down from the North while he had been searching for Lyanna, she had come to personally collect the bones of his Father and brother, Rickard and Brandon. She had been in the city when he had arrived holding his nephew and carrying his sisters bones in a cart. She had taken one look at the babe and had never let him go, she glared at him when he had introduced him as Jon Snow. He and Howland had quickly found themselves dragged into an abandoned room in the Red Keep, most had assumed is mother was berating him for having a Bastard, they were wrong.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

“Do not play games with me Eddard Stark, tell me my Grandsons name now or so help me, you will have wished you had really had a bastard.” That brought both Ned and Howland to a frightful pause, “Mother I don’t have any idea what you are talking abou… OUCH.” he was cut off from the hand that had smacked his head, “Do not lie to me boy, I know my children enough to see my daughter in her son.”

“My Lady Stark, whatever you think is happening I can assure that your daughter has no Bastard.”

“Of course she doesn’t, she could only have had a trueborn son seeing as she took her vows under the Heart tree’s of the God’s Eye.” That had caused both of them to gasp, Howland had fallen to his knees and began to pray, Ned tried to wrap his head around his mother's word’s. “How do you know?”

“Because she had a letter left with Lord Tytos, he sent a rider to deliver it to me when he heard I was coming South, it was addressed to your father but he refused to come to Raventree Hall when he came South” 

“Rhaegar was already wed to Elia Martell, the union would not be true.”

“Yes, because it’s not as though any Targaryen has ever had more than one wife, besides, Elia was wed in front of statues and Lyanna in front of Heart tree’s. By the rights of the God’s this little one is as trueborn as his siblings had been.” That statement brought a very bitter feeling to Ned, the deaths of Rhaenys and Aegon had been the lowest point of the war. “It doesn’t matter if she was true in marriage, she was betrothed and she broke …”

“YOU WILL SHUT YOUR MOUTH OR I WILL TAKE YOUR TONGUE YOU DAMN FOOL!!!!” his mother's shout had startled him back several steps, it reminded him of being a boy having been caught sneaking sweets. “The only ones who couldn’t see that your sister was unhappy with that match was your father and you. It was because you were both blind to the truth by your father’s ambitions and your want to have Baratheon as a brother that you sold your sister like a broodmare. That man is unfit for marrying a fish wife, let alone a daughter of House Stark, he would have given her an heir and then once the shine had worn off, he would have been in the closest whore house.”

“He would not dishonour her like that, he would have been true when they had wed.”

“Stop lying to yourself Ned,” that had caused Ned to turn to Howland in shock, “that man doesn’t know how to behave like a husband. He kept sleeping with whores and barmaids even after he was betrothed to your sister. For God’s sake Ned he was fucking when we found him at the Stony Sep before, during and after the Battle of the Bells.” That caused Ned to blush, “He proclaimed his love for Lyanna through the entire campaign but he didn’t show it in his actions. Tell me one night where he didn’t have another woman warming his bedroll, TELL ME!”

Ned could only turn away from the pair, he knew that Lyanna had earned Howlands, hell all of House Reeds, loyalty for what she had done at Harrenhal. It had been another war in in of itself to stop Howland from killing Robert for what he did while proclaiming love for his sister, most of the other Northern Lords had felt the same as Howland. It was only due to the justice promised them that they had not killed Robert for the shame he had brought his sister. “I know you might see him as a brother Eddard, but he has acted as what he is, a Southerner.” The venom from his mother's voice made him flinch, his mother had always been a pure northern women, and for all she had been born a Flint, she was Stark at her very core.

She had nearly ripped his father's throat out for his Southern ambitions, he still remembered the time he had treated her like she was a Southern Lady after she had found out about Lyanna’s betrothal to Robert. He had ordered her as her Lord husband to not speak of things she had no knowledge of and to know her place, the grinning Maester behind him had lent to where the words had come from. His mother had ordered him and his siblings from the solar and then told the guards they were not to interfere. When his father had realized he had made a mistake he had ordered the guards to restrain his mother, they had simply looked at him before walking out of the room with them, ignoring his fathers yelling. After the door had closed they had begun to hear sounds that would have sounded more natural in a dungeon or battlefield then a Lords solar.

After what had seemed like an eternity the door had opened and his mother had walked out and told the guards to prepare a guest room for his father and a dog kennel for the Maester. As she had walked off they looked inside to find Maester Walys head had been stuck into the burnt out fireplace while his chains had been used to tie their father up, who was hanging from Ice’s rack, upside down. Rickard had been left with more bruises than skin, with the imprints of the Maesters chain around his neck, along with several broken fingers on top of a broken nose and a split lip. Walys had been even worse, his arms and hands were all broken as well as his eyes were blackened and several teeth had been removed and cracked. His mother had not spoken to his father for almost a year after the incident, forced to not even be able to sleep in the Lords chambers and Walys had been forced to return to the Citadel and replaced with another Maester having to take his place.

Eddard had learned on that day just how much his mother hated the South, most of the North did, but his mother was someone who believed the only people you could trust were those who weren’t pure Andel. He knew his mother was especially mad for him marrying Catelyn Tully so as to have the might of the Riverlands on the Rebels side. When Hoster Tully had tried to greet her alongside Jon Arryn she had nearly gelded the man for what she had said was the dishonoring of both her sons for his schemes. When Jon had tried to defuse the situation she had nearly taken his nose with a swipe of the dagger that had been at Hoster’s cock. She had called him no better for persuading her son to marry for the good of the rebellion. She called Hoster a Oathbreaker and craven for demanding his daughter marry him when Brandon's body was still warm.

His mother had only remained in King’s Landing because he had sent a raven from Starfall that he was heading back North. “Mother I know that you don’t like Robert but he is to be King, we can not just ignore him.”

“Of course we can, when was the last time any King gave a fuck about the North, Aegon the Unlikely sent us food and his Lords almost rebelled. Cregan Stark answered the call of Aegon the third and removed the rot and corruption from both sides of the war and was given nothing that he was promised. Your own father fought in the war of the Ninepenny Kings and no one remembers that he was the one that led the assault on the Grey Gallows that allowed for the royal host to take Bloodstone and end the war. The Starks will always be forgotten and ridiculed in the South, they will eventually forget what even you have done my son, soon it will be as though the North was nothing more than a weak babe, unable to do anything without the ‘great’ Knights of the South.”

His mother's words hit him hard, the North had always been looked down upon by the South, but he had thought it would be different now. Robert was his closest friend, surely he would make sure the North was treated justly, his thoughts were put aside for a later date at his mother's voice. “What is my grandson’s name Eddard?”

“Daeron, she named him for the third son of Aegon the Unlikely, she wanted him to have the freedom to not be forced to bare the destiny his father had said he would have.”

““Destiny?””

“Lyanna said that Rhaegar thought him to be the Prince that was promised, because he is the fulfillment of the pact of Ice and Fire.” While his mother shook her head and began to coo at the babe, they both missed the wide eyes that Howland Reed now possessed, he quickly schooled his features and looked at the babe again. He grabbed his head when he felt the ache in his skull, _ “It seems you were more special than I thought before Lyanna.” _

“So what is to become of my grandson, are you going to hand him to be slaughtered like his brother before him?”

“NO, I made a promise to Lyanna that I would care for him.”

“Good, then what are you planning to do, besides besmirch his name by making him a Bastard?”

“If I have to lie and call him my Bastard to protect him then I will” Ned blinked at himself, he had never heard his voice so graveled. “Good, but what of when he is older, where will he live, what shall he be?”

“I had thought to let him join the Night's Watch, it is an honorable duty and he would be safe once he has taken his vows.”

“So your going to ship him off to what has become a Penal Colony so that you can protect your friends claim to the throne on the off chance, the mere chance, that someone won’t make the connection between him and your sister and send knives to end him.” The flat look on his mother's face makes him wince once again, but she was far from finished as she handed Daeron to Howland. “Not to mention that he has the Stark looks, and there are hundreds of Targaryen supporters who would gladly take revenge on one of the families that led to their loss, regardless of if he is a Bastard. And if he survives all of that, he will still never be allowed to have a wife or children of his own and will spend his days fighting to protect a family who didn’t even want him?” By the time she was done Ned felt as though he was no better than Tywin Lannister, he had just wanted to keep the boy safe, right?

“It doesn’t matter what you had planned anymore, I guess”

“What?”

“Do you really think I will allow my grandson to be raised so he could be sent to the Night's Watch? I had to be restrained when Benjen said he wanted to go to the Watch, voluntarily. You think I will let my grandson not have a life befitting of who he is, then you are more Arryn then Stark.” She quickly grabbed Daeron from Howland and walked out the door, Ned looked at Howland who simply looked at him with a frown. He probably didn’t like the idea of Lyanna’s son being forced into such a life. Howland quickly left after his mother, leaving Ned alone trying to understand what he had just done.

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

His mother had come straight back North, via the Manderly ship she had come on, she had taken the bones of his father and siblings with her, along with Jon. It had taken Ned over a week before he was able to leave King's Landing, it was another two sennights before he was able to make it to Riverun. He had been given a silent welcome by his wife, it seemed she had heard about him having a Bastard, and a son at that. She had eventually come to forgive him, she had said she understood that men slept with whores and loose women when at war. That the pressure and feeling of death could become too much and that they might require comfort. Ned had thought that was the end of it, until they had arrived at Winterfell to find his mother, and Jon. 

Catelyn had been furious that Jon had been brought to Winterfell before her own son Robb. She had demanded that he be sent away and had begun to scream and cry at him when he had said he could not. She had taken to sleeping in the Lady’s chambers with Robb, as time went on she eventually came to forgive him, but the air between her and his mother could not be called anything other then frosty at best and hostile at worst. When he had commissioned to have a Sept built into Winterfell as a gift to his wife, his mother had to be stopped by Rodrick Cassel, she had nearly brained him with a mace she had taken from the armoury. She had screamed at him for daring to spit on the Old Gods, or as she called them the True God’s, by having the faith, that had tried to have the North extinguished, symbol built in the very heart of the North. When Catelyn had said that their children would need to be taught how to be true Lords and Ladys by the Septons and Septa’s she had broken free from Rodrick and slapped his wife across the face. She had screamed that the future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North had no need for Southern statues, as the yelling between the two grew Ned eventually told them to stop. He had told his mother that Catelyn was the Lady of Winterfell now and that she was allowed to raise the children as she thought was best.

His mother had glared at him before she had walked over and placed her hands on his shoulders, she had then yanked him down and kneed him in the chest, he had fallen back and had to bring his hand to his mouth to stop the blood that came up, she had looked down at him in disgust before walking out. His mother had then ordered the broken keep cleaned and repaired, once the first few floors were fixed she had moved not only herself but Jon into the keep. After that he rarely saw his mother, she even had food delivered and a new nursemaid found for Jon, he was even forbidden from seeing him for several moons while his mother's anger cooled. ‘The North Remembers’ was never made more clear to him then the anger his mother held for him at giving his wife a Sept to pray in.

It was less than a moon after the Sept had been finished that his wife became heavy with their second child. The birth of his daughter, Sansa, had been one of his happiest memories, his daughter had been born with her mother's red air and Tully blue eyes. Catelyn had cooed over her daughter, as had Ned, calling her a perfect future Lady, he and his wife had never been happier. It had come to an end though when his mother had visited the babe, she had seemed disappointed in his daughter then excited to see her first granddaughter. Though Ned knew the reason, it being the same as the reason she looked at his son with the same look, they both took after his wife more than himself, he had been told by Rodrick that she considered it a curse from the Gods for what he had done, that building a Sept in the heart if the North had cursed his line to not be truly of the North.

He had thought it foolish at first, but even he could not keep out the whispers that grew from his head at his mother's words. Tensions, eventually, had been at least somewhat put aside when his second daughter, Arya, had been born. She had looked as Stark as could be, that had somewhat calmed his mother, her fear of her grandchildren being cursed somewhat relieved. She spent more time with Arya then any of his other children, though she still put Jon as her first priority. Life had seemed to finally be settling down, that was until the next big division came when Jon and Robb were seven, coming up on eight, name days old. It had happened when the boys had just begun to learn how to fight from Rodrick, moving on from the basic exercises that they had been doing since they were old enough to run. It was during a routine spar that the event that would change House Stark, and by extension the North, happened.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

Ned was in his solar, dealing with several messages from Jon Arryn, when Jory Cassel, Rodrick’s nephew, had come running in and looked terrified. “My Lord come quick, its your children.” Ned had been out of his chair and running before he had even realized it, the scene that he came upon made him horrified. Robb, who had a gash above his eye that was dripping blood, was frantically pulling on his mother's skirts as she held the boys wooden sword, which she was using to beat his Nephew while she screamed at him. “YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN RAISE YOUR HAND AGAINST YOUR BETTERS. YOU ARE A LIVING SIN BORN FROM A MISTAKE OF WAR. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT IN THE STREETS TO DIE LIKE ALL OTHER BASTARDS. YOU WILL NEVER TAKE WINTERFELL FROM YOUR BROTHER, HE IS YOUR SUPERIOR AND ALWAYS WILL BE. IF I EVER SEE YOU RAISE YOUR WEAPON AGAINST HIM OR ANY OTHER TRUEBORN CHILD I WILL HAVE YOU THROWN FROM THE NORTH AS THE DISGRACE THAT YOU ARE.”

“CAITTTLYYYN!!!”

That had pulled the women from her tirraid, she looked at him before looking back at Jon, she glared at him one last time before throwing the sword at the boy. She quickly picked up Robb and made her way towards the Maester, when a guard went for Jon, she glared at him and ordered him to leave him alone, saying he was not to be treated. Ned quickly ran to Jon and then quickly pulled back when his son pulled away from his touch. Jon had blood running from his head and he was clutching his arm, which appeared to be broken. His nose was now crooked and his skin looked like one big bruise that was set behind his blackening eyes and split lip. “Jon can you look at me please?” He simply shook his head and pulled into himself closer, Ned could see the tears as they flowed from his eyes. “Jon please, talk to me.” The boy again shook his head and began to get up, he stumbled when he landed on his right leg, his ankle was at a weird angle and looked sprained, “Jon please let me help you.”

This time he looked at Ned, and what he said next shattered his heart, “why do you care,” the words came in a pained whisper, “I’m just a mistake.” He then dragged himself from the yard, the household forced to watch as the boy pulled himself towards the tower that had become his home with his Grandmother. Ned could only watch in shock, he felt as though he had been struck worse than Jon, he stood up and walked other to Rodrick, “What happened?”

“The young Lords were sparring, your wife was watching from the balcony with your daughters, during the spar Lord Robb made a mistake that Jon capitalized on. He knocked away his brothers sword and hit him on the head, Lord Robb went down and Jon resumed his stance and waited for him to get back up. It was several seconds later that he realized he wasn’t getting up, he dropped his sword and ran to check on him, that’s when I saw the blood. Your wife was already down and in the yard screaming. Before Jon could react she back handed him and threw him to the side, when she saw the blood she became enraged. She grabbed Robb’s sword from beside him and began to beat the boy. When I tried to stop her she yelled that any who stopped her from teaching him a lesson would be banished from Winterfell. Lord Robb woke a minute later and saw what his mother was doing, he tried to stop her and say it was his fault that he had gotten hurt, but that seemed to only enrage her more. You saw the rest Milord.”

Ned ran his hand over his face and tried to stop from screaming, “Have my wife in my solar when she finishes with Robb, and send someone to help Jon, I don’t care what my wife has said, my word is law, not hers.” He quickly walked off and headed for his solar, he knew his wife disliked Jon, but he didn’t think that her hatred would be this deep.

* * *

It was another hour before Catelyn came to his solar, as she sat down he just stared at the fire as she waited for him to speak. He was silent for several minutes before he spoke, “What were you thinking?”

“He harmed my son, like I always said he would.”

“He took advantage of a mistake that Robb made in the yard, any other child would have done the same. What made you think that you could attack the boy and degrade him at the same time?"

“Because he would have thought Robb was weak, it would have planted the seed in his mind that he was stronger than him and that he should become Lord of Winterfell.”

“That is foolish, Jon loves our children, he would protect them rather than harm them, you only have to see how he acts around Arya to know that was true.” His youngest daughter had just passed her third name day, but it was clear that her favorite person was Jon. When she had been just a babe she had always wanted to be held by him and would scream unless she saw him. Her first word had not been father or even mother it had been a happily screamed out “Jan!!!” before she had hugged him. Now that she could walk, she was chasing him all over the castle, often running away from her mother and Septa in the process.

Catelyn scowled at his words, she hated that her daughter liked the boy over her own brother, on more than one occasion Arya had been found to have escaped her chambers to go sleep with Jon. “It doesn’t matter, history has shown us that nothing good ever comes from keeping Bastards around, the Blackfyre Rebellions are proof enough of that.” As Ned went to speak again the door to his solar was harshly swung open and slammed into the wall. At the entrance was his mother, she was panting with what seemed like an unending rage and hatred, rather than exhaustion. She took one look at them before she flew across the room and grabbed Catelyn’s hair, she quickly slammed her head down on the desk. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING. GET THIS THROUGH YOUR FUCKING SKULL YOU FISH BITCH. YOU ARE NOT THE MOST IMPORTANT WOMEN IN THE NORTH. YOU ARE NOT EVEN THE MOST IMPORTANT IN WINTERFELL, YOU ARE A FUCKING COMMADITY THAT WAS SOLD BECAUSE YOUR FATHER IS A GREEDY CUNT. IF MY HUSBAND HADN’T BEEN TRICKED BY THAT FUCKING WORM OF A MAESTER FROM THE REACH YOU WOULD HAVE SPENT YOUR DAYS SPREADING YOUR LEGS FOR THE FUCKING FREYS AND MY FAMILY WOULD STILL BE WHOLE. YOU MIGHT BE MY SONS WIFE THROUGH YOUR FUCKING GODS, BUT YOU WILL NEVER BE MY DAUGHTER.”

His mother released Catelyn hair, blood pooled under his wife from where his mother had slammed her nose into the wood and proceeded to grind her face into it like a mortar and pestle. “You dare to ever touch my grandson again and I will drag you through the streets of Wintertown naked and have you flogged before sending your ass back to your father, naked and tied in a fucking cart.” She gave Catelyn one final kick in the legs, that sent her falling to the floor and slamming her head back into the desk. Lyarra turned away from Catelyn to look at her son, “You are a fucking disappointment,” Ned’s mouth opened and his eyes widened as he tried to gain control of the situation. “You allow your wife, a fucking Tully, to run the very heart of the North like it was the South. You allow your children to learn of false gods by religious fanatics that go around touting about the evilness of Bastards that they have turned your own daughter against her brother. You are no true Northerner, whatever pup I had died at the Vale and has been replaced by this Southerner that says he is honorable but breaks thousands of years of tradition and family bonds for his bitch of a wife. I will not remain here to see you lead the North to ruin, I’m going to stay with my brother,” she turned and walked away. She stopped at the door and turned around, “I’m taking Jon with me, knowing your plans you probably would allow the bitch to mistreat him so he joins the watch.”

Ned could only sit there his heart racing and the walls closing in around him, his wife lay moaning on the floor, half conscious. He began to feel tears in his eyes, his family was falling apart all over again and, like his mother loved to point out, it was his fault that the pack was splitting at the seams. He choked back sobs as he felt the weight of what he had done, he had tried to please his wife so as they could have a strong relationship and marriage, and in the process he had driven away what little family he still had. He had gone against every unwritten law of House Stark to make Catelyn happy and had made his nephew, no his son, feel as though he didn’t care that he was worthless in his eyes. It was this that led to his last thought as he began to sob, _ “I’m sorry Lyanna, I failed you both.” _

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

His mother's departer from Winterfell had spread like Wildfire through the North, the actions of his wife, in the eyes of the Lords of the North, had brought her reputation to a new low. She was now scene as a child beater that couldn’t handle having her child bested in the yard, now most Lords were directing their Heirs to not fight his Son in the ring for fear of his wife. But if Catelyn’s reputation outside was bad, within Winterfell it had become even worse, especially with Arya. When his youngest had found out that Jon was leaving Winterfell, and by extension her, she had screamed her head off and begged him not to leave her. Jon had held his sister, tears in his eyes, as he explained that he had to go and that Winterfell was not his home. She had then begged to go with him, he had told him that her place was here, with the other Starks. She had grabbed him even tighter and just kept begging, she was eventually pulled away from him by his mother. She knelt on her knees and proceeded to tell his daughter something in a low voice, after she had finished and once more stood Arya had turned to look at her family, her mother in specific. Ned knew that children were rather terrible at making faces that could match their emotions, but the way his daughter just stared at her mother with an empty face and eyes, he felt a shiver go down his back.

His daughter had then walked towards them, mumbling something he couldn’t hear. As she reached them she slapped away her mother's hand, much to her shock, and Ned discovered what his daughter had been saying, “It’s your fault.” She had then started to attack her mother, kicking, biting and scratching, she became more animal then girl in that moment that Ned had to restrain her. She had screamed that she hated Catelyn and that she would never forgive her for sending her brother away. She then squirmed her way out of Neds grip and ran down the halls, Ned and Catelyn had both caught the smirk on his mother's lips as she rode out the gate with Jon and her guards.

That had been the last time he had seen his mother, or his son, though he still heard about them through other Lords and, occasionally Rodrick, what they were up to. For nearly five years he heard talk of his son becoming a demon in the yard, of taking up two swords so as to have no weakness to exploit, and without even knowing it, adding to the rumors that his mother had been Ashara Dayne. Of how he fought against Wildlings alongside the Great and SmallJon, stopping Bandits along the kings road, even saving Lord Karstark and his daughter. His son was becoming a symbol in the North, a symbol of strength and skill wrapped in honour, there was even talk about him not even being Ned's son. He had nearly collapsed when he had heard that rumor, though they thought him to be Brandon's son, instead of Lyanna's. While he had been relieved at the misunderstanding of who Jon's father was, his wife had become even worse at hearing that Jon might be her form betrotheds Bastard. She had confronted him on the rumors when she had heard the talk of several kitchen maids, Ned had assured her that Jon was not his brothers Bastard, and if he had one, Ned did not know of them. 

While most Lords took Neds words that Jon was not Brandon's Bastard, several still thought otherwise, specifically Lady Barbrey Dustin. To most Lords the matter of Jon’s birth was becoming less and less of an issue, he had already gotten several fostering offers from lower Lords, much to Catelyn anger. He had nearly had to have Luwin prepare milk of the poppy when he had received a marriage offer from Lord Karstark. While Robb was no longer avoided when it came to sparring, only the household guards fought him, and while a smart and skilled lad, he was seen as his brothers lesser by several Northern Lord’s. While people called Jon the next coming of the Sword of the Morning or the Hungry Wolf reborn, Robb had yet to make a moniker for himself. Though the boy seemed more proud of his brother then angry, he simply said he now had to work harder to make sure he didn’t fall behind.

Arya had made it her life’s mission to make her mother’s life a living hell, she skipped sewing lessons, she wore pants and shirts rather than dresses and took to pranking anyone she could. His wife had little help in reining her in, while several of Catelyn's servants were from the Riverlands, most of the household was pure Northern. Most still had memories of his sister and simply smiled at the young girl and helped her in getting away from her pursuer’s. What little relationship his daughters had, had been shattered when Arya had flicked stew onto Sansa when Lord Glover had been visiting, ruining her new dress. Sansa had called Arya a rotten little beast for the act, the comment had just made Arya grin and say that she would rather be a beast then an empty-headed Southerner, her mother had quickly reprimanded her and ordered her to her room but she had just grinned in victory as she walked out.

He felt torn whenever he had to deal with his daughters, Sansa spent her time trying to be as perfect a Lady as she could. It was rather scary sometimes how much his eldest daughter resembled her mother, it reminded him of his own mother telling him that most Southerners liked their daughters as dumbed down baby makers. It also reminded him of how his own wife had had difficulty running Winterfell when she had first arrived. While she had some skill in running a household, due to her mother's passing, she had little idea of how the North worked, something that all children of Noble birth, man or woman, learned. It was more out of need that everyone knew how to survive winter than anything else, but he had begun to fear what his wife was teaching Sansa. 

Now, on top of all internal struggles he had to deal with in House Stark, he had to deal with the news that Jon Arryn was sending him. The Ironborn were acting up and it seemed they would soon rebel, Jon told him that he was trying to use diplomacy to avoid a war with the Ironborn, but Ned still sent word to his Lords to prepare for a possible campaign. If the Ironborn were to become a problem, then the only option would be a ground war on Pyke and the rest of the islands, because no matter how many times the reveres were pushed back into the ocean they would always return, no an invasion of the Iron Islands was the only way to end the threat. It was the very first response he had received from the warning sent out that he was having to worry about, his mother was returning from her stay with the Flints of the Mountain Clans, to manage Winterfell during the war. Because, as she wrote, a fish would not know how to rule over wolves, that had sent his wife into a tirade that had lasted nearly the rest of the day. He knew she had a right to be angry, it was due to is mother's words that Catelyn was not respected, and her words often ignored, by most of the other Lords, and she was seen only as a Southerner that they had been forced to take.

Ned now feared a war on two fronts, between the Ironborn and the rest of Westeros, and here at home. Between his wife, the women who had birthed his children and raised them, and his mother, the woman who had birthed and raised him, and was still a large voice in the ear of every one of his Lord’s. He could only pray that he did not return from war to find his home besieged by his mother for the perceived slights of his wife.

* * *

It was nearly a sennight later that he received the letter he had been fearing.

“** _Lannisport has been burned and sacked, the Reach has been raided and several villages have been taken as slaves along with the Riverlands. Prince Stannis leads the Royal fleet with the aid of House Hightower, the Lords of Westeros are to gather at High Heart in three moons time to help push the Ironborn back to the sea and then to the Iron Islands to end the Rebellion.”_ **

He needed to gather his men and prepare to march South, “My Lord,” he looked up and saw Jory, “Milord, Milady, the former Lady Stark has been spotted down the rode from Wintertown, she will be here within the hour.” Ned heaved a sigh as he saw his wife's face grow cold and her eyes blaze in anger. He simply thank Jory and began to write the letters needed to send to his Lords, they needed to gather there strength soon if they were to make the deadline. His wife stared at him for a second before huffing and walking out of his solar, he would deal with the rest of his family after he had figured out what to do, life is never easy, is it?


	2. Raised to Survive and to Thrive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon looks back at the training he has gone through under the Flints while he and his grandmother arrive in Winterfell. Lyarra also drops some world shaking news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first off, HOLY SHIT, this story has only been out for a little over a week and we already have almost a hundred bookmarks. Thank you all for the support, now onto the comments. Some people say I am being completely wrong about Catelyn's character and that she would never hurt Jon like that. Did everyone forget that in the canon she prayed for his death, when he was a baby. And the only reason I say that she took it back was because she didn't want it on her conscience. After all, if she was actually sorry she would have followed through on giving him the Stark name and treating him better. But I said at the start of this that if you are of fan of the Tullys that this was not a fanfic for you. And those that are saying I'm making the north to racist and southern hating, this chapter goes into why. Anyways on with the story.

“ Talking (Common Tongue)”

_ “Thinking” _

** _“Letters and book text”_ **

**“Talking (Old Tongue)”**

** _“Famous Weapon or ship”_ **

** _{Talking (High Valyrian)}_ **

**{Talking (Bastard Valyrian)}**

* * *

“Remember Jon, you must present yourself as a member of House Stark. You need to keep your head up and your eyes forward. Do not slouch and speak your words clearly and with confidence, never allow an insult to be made without responding in kind. But remember to be subtle, while I don’t care for flowery words they do serve a purpose at times.”

“Yes grandmother, I know.” Jon had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, this was the third time, today alone, that he had been given this speech.  _ “Though if she sees me do so I’ll get my head smacked and I’ll have a lecture on manners, again” _ Jon loved his grandmother, she was the one constant in his life that he could always count on. But she was so concerned with the future of House Stark that he was rarely allowed to be a child. Ever sense they had left Winterfell to stay with the Flints his life had been constant practice in the yards of Breakstone Hill, learning the history and greatness of the North and how to survive in the wild. The lessons were hard and had nearly killed him several times, training with his cousin Artos was far more dangerous and exhausting than with Sir Rodrick.

He had begun training after his arm and leg had healed, around three moons after arriving at Breakstone Hill. He had spent the first few moons getting back into training before his grandmother had dropped the first near impossible task of the last five years, becoming two handed. ****

* * *

**FLASHBACK**   


* * *

“Why do I have to learn to fight with my left hand? I’m right handed.” Jon asked his grandmother. “Because I said so.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense, if I start fighting with my left hand, I'll have to start training all over again.”

“Oh, you are so sure of your skills right now that you think you’ll never be defeated? That you will always be able to use your dominant hand?”

“Well… no, but”

“And I guess you think that it’s fine to ignore balanced training and only focus on being a swordsmen right? After all, your a little Lord so why should you know how to shoot a bow. Why would you ever need to know how to hold a spear in a line against a charging Vanguard. You’ll always be safe in the back of the army, giving orders and watching as men die without fear. Right?” 

“No grandmother.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am of Stark blood, and we do not sit in the back like Southern Knight’s and let our people die.”

“What is it we do?”

“We lead our men from the front, we never let are men take a risk that we ourselves are unwilling to take.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Train like you tell me to.”

“Good, now go join Artos in the yard.” Lyarra watched her grandson head to join her nephew in the training yard. While she had believed in what she had told her grandson, she did have a slightly ulterior motives to pushing him. She had heard the rumors that some said about her grandson as he grew up, of how pretty he was. That surely his mother had to have been a great beauty to tempt the honorable Ned Stark into breaking his marriage vows. Most thought that it must be the Lady Ashara Dayne, the two had been seen dancing at the tourney of Harrenhal, ,and the baby had come from Dorne. So it was obvious that the two must have slept together and her son had gotten her with child. It was said the loss of her closest friend and her beloved brother, to the man she loved no less, had sent her mad with grief. She was said to have thrown herself from the tower of Starfall after giving Ned Stark their child to raise.

She knew that Jon was not Ashara’s son, and Ned had even told her that while he had been enchanted by Ashara he had never lain with her. She had believed him, the sadness on his face when he spoke of her had still been fresh. But she had seen the distress that it had caused her gooddaughter, and she couldn’t help herself. If people thought that Jon’s looks came from the Dornish it would explain much about his beauty.  _ “Most people will see the Sword of the Morning, not the Last Dragon.” _ It was that thought that let her walk out of the yard and head towards her brothers solar, she had several things to speak of with him. 

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS** _ **** _

* * *

It had taken nearly three, frustrating, moons before his cousin Artos had finally taken to binding Jon’s right arm to himself. With little choice Jon was forced to use his left arm for nearly everything. It was a year before it became near second nature to make use of his left arm, with only brief periods of using his right so it didn’t stiffen. Then another several moons to get his right arm working how it had been so he could train with both. But the result had been worth the training, however strange and some might even say cruel it had been. He could now use both arms in a near perfect tandem with little harm to himself. It was after his tenth name day that the training increased. That was when his grandmother dropped the next lesson set on him, weapons.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

“What is the most commonly used weapon in war?”

“The sword?”

“No Jon, while most Lords and Knights prefer the sword, the most commonly used weapon is the pike. It is mainly used by smallfolk who make up our foot soldiers. Why do you think it is the most commonly used?”

“Because it’s the easiest to train in?”

“Well for some yes, most Lords don’t really bother with training their smallfolk for war outside of the occasion army training. They will come for a few sennights and learn basic formations and how to hold a line and make a charge. Since most smallfolk have other jobs to do, such as farming or raising livestock, they never go past this basic training.”

“So who makes up the Vanguard then?”

“That would usually be minor Lords and their personal guards, most Vanguard these days use horses, and rarely does a farmer own a war horse.”

“Why?”

“Because it is impractical, a standard war horse can eat up to almost twenty sacks a grain after a hard ride. Where as a work horse will only require a few sacks through the day while tilling fields. Horses that are specially bred for war will be much larger and be of little use to a man who’s biggest problem is food. Most war horses are kept by the Kingdoms Lords, most of the horses the North uses are actually bred by House Ryswell. Most Lords choose to use Coursers, they are smaller than Southern war horses, but they are better made for snow and eat less. While for those of us in the Mountain clans as well as the Night's Watch use Garron’s. These horses are able to deal with snow and extreme weather and terrain better than any other breed.”

“So that's why the pike is the most used, because smallfolk can’t afford to keep war horses?”

“Well it’s one of the reasons, but the main is that it’s cheap.”

“Cheap?”

“Yes cheap, think about what you must do in order to properly maintain your sword.”

“I have to clean it after I use it, not to mention make sure I oil it once a week. I have to worry about rust if I don’t store it properly. There’s also sharpening it with a whetstone so it’s not dull.”

“Yes, on top of all that you have to watch for chips in the blade. They also cost a at least five silver stags in order to have a truly good sword made for themselves. Those made of castle forged steel can cost as much as a half dragon. The average smallfolk will make, at best, one silver stag in a year if their lucky. Most though will make closer to half a stag in a year, so why waste ten years worth of wages for one sword? Where as a pike does not require as much metal as a sword, nearly a fourth, so they are much easier to buy. A pike does not need the same metal as a sword, they can be made from steel, iron or even copper. The only thing that it requires is a good shaft of wood and a metal head of around two feet that ends in a point and has a second curved point.”

“So the smallfolk keep pikes, because they are cheaper and easier to maintain?”

“Yes, but it’s the Lords who keep the weapons Jon.”

“Why wouldn’t the smallfolk keep them?”

“Because most Lords don’t like the idea of having armed smallfolk, even if it’s only a pike.”

“Why would they fear their own people?”   
  


“Because most Lords don’t really care for their smallfolk outside of it affecting the production in their lands. If you look at the entire population of Westeros, you’ll see that only around a third or less are Landed Knights, Craftsmen, Merchants and Nobility. Kings Landing is a perfect example, the city has close to a million souls within its wall, yet over half of its people live in the slums of Flea Bottom. There is only one thing that keeps the smallfolk from rising against us, do you know what that is.”

“Fear, maybe respect?”

“No Jon, fear will only keep people in line for so long, eventually they will hate you enough to forget their fear of you. And yes while respect is better than fear, it won’t stop desperate people from rising against you. The one thing that is needed in order to keep the smallfolk from rising up is simply complacency. Most people don't care what’s happening in the world as long as it doesn’t affect them. As long as they have enough to feed their families and sleep comfortably at night, they will never raise their swords in rebellion.”

“I thought you said they didn’t use swords?”

“Alright, raise their pikes in rebellion”

“Don’t the Lords keep the pikes away from the smallfolk?”

“Fine, their farm tools. The details don’t matter, the point is, is that you must never forget that we are the ones out numbered Jon.”

“Yes grandmother.”

“Good boy, this brings us to the lesson you will be learning today, adaptability.”

“What?”

“You will be learning how to wield anything around you like a weapon. Weather it be a mace or a kitchen knife, if needed, you will learn to make animal bones into daggers.”

“Why?”

“You never know where life will take you, better to be ready then be a helpless child. If you were captured and managed to escape or even if you have a dead body near you you can make a way to fight.”

“Use Human bones?” he shuddered at the thought.

“It depends on your will to live, will you fight tooth, nail and claw for every last moment of life? Or will you simply fall over and give up the second life gets difficult?”

“I’ll fight”

“Really? Because I don’t think you’ll do your best.”

“I’ll fight!”

“You don’t want it bad enough.”

“I WILL FIGHT TILL MY SOUL IS GONE FROM MY CORPSE. SO LONG AS BLOOD RUNS THROUGH MY BODY I WILL NEVER GIVE EVEN AN INCH OF GROUND!!!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear, that’s what it means to be a Stark.”

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

Jon spent nearly every waking moment after that learning one weapon or another, none of his lessons got in the way regardless of what they were. They taught him history while he shot the bow, forced to make his answers by shooting a target a certain way. Every time he successfully hit the answer they made the answer smaller. His meals now came with the challenge of having to make a decent weapon out of the bones left behind. He was then attacked in the halls while walking towards his next lesson, and forced to defend himself with his makeshift weapon. They made him heave rocks and boulders up hills only to roll them all down when he failed to do it fast enough. He was forced to fight multiple opponents with a different weapon, chosen by his family for that day, nearly all day, everyday . They never seemed to end because for every one he took down another two or three popped up to fight him.

Jon had continued the cycle for nearly two years before, on the eve of his two and ten name day, they gave him his next test, survive.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

“The North is an unforgiving woman boy, she can give you great beauty and bounty but she hides her claws well. The snow’s hide animals that will swallow you whole and chew your bones for treats. Her plants can take your life just as easily as they heal your body, its fruit, while seculant, can be just as rotten and infested with maggots as the faith of the seven. You must never forget to offer your thanks for what she has given you, for it might just as easily be snacthed away.”

“Yes great uncle Torghen” His grandmother’s younger brother stood proud upon his horse, his son Artos, and Jons trainer, sitting next to him. “It is good you say you know this, now we shall see you prove it.” Without even a warning Torghen pulled a knife from his waist and slashed Jon’s saddle while Artos gave the horse a smack on the rear. Jon quickly slipped from his horse as his saddle fell off, “Three moons, that is how long you will live out here, survive.” Without another word the two road off, leaving Jon alone, in the frozen forest of the North, without provision, weapon or warmth. He quickly removed the saddle from his leg and started to search for anything of use, he found not but an old knife. He had thought it strange when he had come down this morning to find a horse already prepared for him. They always made him care and prepare his own horse, ‘for it is your burden they bare, so it is you who shall unburden her.’

Jon simply sat down as he took in his surroundings, he would need to find more suitable grounds. While access to trees was not an issue, he was too exposed where he was, he needed an enclosed area where predators couldn’t reach him. He quickly stood up and began to walk, taking only the small knife with him, they had said survive, so he would.

* * *

Four days, four cold, wet, hungry and all around fucking miserable days,\ he had been walking. For miles along the mountains, in hopes of finding a cave with which to make a temporary home, he walked. But every one he came across was either too small or occupied. He had come across a dozen wolf packs and several mama bears and cubs. He spent most of his nights sleeping in trees, anchored with some redamentry binding so he didn’t fall out. He could not catch any meat because he had no fire to cook it with and was forced to eat what little fruits he could find. It was a few hours from nightfall that he found it, it was several feet taller than himself and it looked like he could fit a cart through.

He quickly rushed in and began to inspect the cave, it looked like it went back for awhile so he focused on the most important thing, fire. He ran out and cut off several low hanging branches, they had little moisture and would make good kindling. He assembled them in a pile with some leaves from the entrance of the cave. He pulled out the knife once more and quickly struck a rock against it. He was rewarded with a few small embers that quickly fizzled out in the cold wind. He moved further into the cave to get away from the wind and began his work, time and again he struck the rock but he couldn’t get the leaves to catch. “Come on you stubborn bastard… why… won’t you… just...FUCKING LIGHT.” With a yell he brought the rock down on the knife, the leaves under him quickly sprang to life as the small fire roared to life.

Jon laughed as he slowly tried to move the small bundle of flames to his kindling, he was rather surprised out how loud it was. Usually a fire had to be as large as the ones in the hearths home his home to make such noise. It was with a sudden realization that he figured it wasn’t the fire that was making the noise. Turning his head to the entrance, he saw nothing but his stack of wood. Slowly, he turned into the cave and saw what was making the noise. It was a bobcat, it had to come almost to his chest and had fangs larger than his knife. It seemed to realize that he had seen it, it growled deeper and began to walk across the rock. Its claws, like great fish hooks ready to tear his arm from his shoulder, scraping across the rock, reminding Jon of sharpening his sword on a whetstone.

Jon quickly dropped the small bundle of embers to the floor, his priorities changed, and went for his knife. The beast seemed to realize he was reaching for something to fight with and pounced at him with a roar. Jon dove to the side and slammed into the wall, the bobcat soaring past his ear with a growl. He turned as fast as he could and brought his knife to bere on the great beast. The cat just turned and, flattening it’s ears, snarled at him again before charging. He dodged the first swipe and slashed at the second, he grinned when he heard the beast let out a cry as he nicked it’s paw. His victory was short lived though as he was back handed toward the entrance, he landed hard and dazed. The beast capitalized on his slowness and pounced again, Jon found his knife out of his reach and quickly grabbed one of the larger branches he had cut.

Driving the branch sideways into the bobcats mouth he tried to push it out him. The creature just growled and began to bite on the branch, trying to break away the obstruction to his prey. Jon tried rolling the bobcats head again and was successful, but not as much as he had hoped. Instead of twisting the beast to its side he had flipped it completely around, letting it land on it feet. The bobcat stood on its hind legs and quickly slashed its claws at Jon, who was only just able to get to his knees. The claws tore through his coat and tunic, going straight into his shoulders and almost hitting his neck. Jon bellowed a mixed cry of pain and anger, with his good arm, he slammed the nearly broken branch into the beasts throat. The beast seized up and began to cough and hack, much like it was choking, forgetting about Jon.

He quickly capitalized the moment of reprieve and dove for his knife, causing the beast to turn its attention to him again. Still breathing hard, the bobcat began to stalk towards Jon, growling and readying its claws for his neck. Jon decided not to wait this time, with a mighty yell he rushed the beast, taking it by surprise. He was able to catch it in the sternum with his blade before it could react. The bobcat gave a roar of pain and swiped at Jon, who dodged it and quickly pulled out his knife. Grabbing the second paw as it swung at him, he quickly drew his arm back and plunged the knife as far and as deep into the creature's neck. The bobcat suddenly went limp and came a few soft growls before going still. 

Jon breathed a sigh of relief before he felt the pain in his shoulder catch up with him, he quickly removed his coat to see the damage. While not deep, the claw marks were long and had still cut in enough to cause problems if he didn’t stop the flow of blood. He quickly stood up and walked back to the front and assembled another pile of dead leaves to make a fire. He remembered his cousin Donnel telling him that the best way to seal a wound to prevent infection without proper tools was to cauterize it. It was nearly twenty minutes later that the flame was big, and hot, enough for his purpose. He grabbed his knife, which he had cleaned off in the snow, and stuck it into the flame. He sat there and watched as the blade began to glow, once he saw the whole thing glow an orange, almost red, light he readied himself. Taking a branch from the pile he had, he quickly stuck it in his mouth and grabbed the blade. He raised it until he was even with the cut, he counted down in his mind and quickly pressed the blade into his skin.

He screamed as he felt his flesh melt and stretch back together, he counted to a quick dozen and removed the blade. He gave a quick look and saw that one of the three, almost foot long, scratches was about half way closed. Jon quickly sat the knife back in the fire and waited to repeat the process. He bit through the stick after the third burn and had nearly blacked out on the fifth, he was getting ready to make the eighth, and final, burn. His head was swimming and he could barely focus on the knife, his arm felt like the muscles had been stretched and wrapped around loose stone. He quickly shook his head and focused on the fire, he grabbed the knife and, for the final time, pressed it against his chest. He didn’t even feel it this time, his whole body was numb and he could only see dull shapes in the cave. He was able to remove the knife and fall onto his coat before he felt his mind fail him, he needed to rest.

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

Jon had managed to survive the cauterizing and maintain full function of his left arm. The strange thing though had been when he woke up, he had given the wound a once over and realized that, while tender, his skin didn’t hurt. In fact, outside of the area where he had been cut, most of his body had nothing more then some light burns. He had expected to find fresh red skin and even blisters like Donnel had told him was common with cauterizing. He had simply thanked the gods for protecting him and quickly put his clothes back on. He had taken the knife, which was mostly ruined thanks to the repeated time in the fire, and worked on skinning the bobcat. For the rest of his time in the wilds he had used the cave as a home, making use of the bobcats bones to make hunting materials.

When his grandmother and great uncle had managed to track him down, Jon had acquired more than just scratches on his chest and left shoulder. He had several more on his back from a pair of wolves he had fought two moons into his time. There were five going in a crisscrossing manner on his lower right back. He had bruises and cuts all over his legs and arms from climbing the land and trees. His grandmother had been off her horse and hugging him, asking if he was okay or if he needed a Maester. He had just shaken his head and looked at his great uncle, they just stared into each others eyes for what seemed like hours. When his eyes began to feel dry, his great uncle had simply nodded at him, “Looks like you have the will after all. Maybe you aren’t a complete waste of my time.” His great uncle had then turned his horse around and began to make his way back to Stonebreak Hill.

His grandmother had fussed over him for several more minutes, huffing under her breath about her brother being stupid and a halfwit. Jon had simply smiled and bared with it, knowing that she cared was all he needed. He quickly grabbed the collection of pelts he had acquired and mounted the horse brought for him. They had arrived back home a few hours later, to the welcome of his cousins and the Flint Household. He had been asked to share the tales of what he had done but he had begged off for a later time. All he wanted was a nice thick bowl of stew with some black bread followed by his bed. He had only been back for a moon's turn when the letter from his father had arrived, before he knew it, his grandmother was packing them up to stay at Winterfell. They had been on the road for nearly a fortnight now and were just passing Wintertown and approaching the ancestral seat of House Stark.

“Do try to look more cheerful Jon, you get to see your beloved little sister after so long, I thought you would be more excited?”

“I am excited to see Arya, I’m just worried about what some people will say.”

“You mean the fish? Don’t worry, I long ago learned how to keep her, and her Southern ways, from affecting us.”

“That is not what I mean grandmother, I’m worried about my other siblings.”

“I know, I am too. I can only imagine how that fish has turned my little wolves into trout who will be forced to flop around without knowing what the real world is like when the time comes.”

“Grandmother,” Jon sighed out as their guard signaled the castle gate to open. “I simply worry that they may not remember me, please, could you just give them a chance? For me.” His grandmother grumbled before sighing and nodding her head, “I, for you I will try, but only for you.”

“Thank you.” She nodded her head and kicked her horse into a slow gallop. Jon quickly following as they passed through the gates of his family home. It was nice to be back after all this time, even if a Southern fish was the one running it.

* * *

Ned stood alongside his wife and children as they waited for his mother and son. While his wife and Sansa stood prim and proper, as was expected of a lady, with blank looks on their faces. Robb was grinning and was looking forward to testing himself against his brother. Bran, who was only just four name days old, looked more confused and tired than anything else. He could understand the boys rather weak reaction to be told his brother and grandmother were coming. Catelyn had been only a few sennights along when his mother had left with Jon, he had no memories of either of them. Arya though, when she heard that her brother was coming back she had nearly passed out from talking so fast. Now, here she stood, having to be held in place by her brother because she had wanted to race out to meet him when they had been spotted down the road. 

He took a deep breath as the gate opened and riders approached, his mother was easy to spot. Her black hair now had streaks of grey running through it. Her face now had several more wrinkles and her hands looked slightly gnarled. But he just had to look into her eyes to know she was the same as she had been five years ago, ready to beat him for his mistakes. The sight of his son though almost knocked the breath from his lungs. His hair was as black as his grandmothers and was pulled back into a horse tail. His face had yet to grow hair but it held no childhood fat and stood out, sharp and angular. While he still had the Stark look to him it was clear to see that he had inherited the Targaryen beauty. His eyes though were the feature that was most striking, they were dark, and stood out as nearly black thanks to the lack of light. He wondered if when they were in the sun they would be Targaryen purple or Stark grey.

Before he had a chance to even speak his daughter broke free, “Jon!!!!” She took a flying leap at Jon who quickly caught her and pulled her onto his horse. “It's good to see you little sister.” She just hugged him tighter, “You won’t leave me again right?”

“The White walkers couldn’t keep me away.”

“Arya!” He turned to see his wife, red faced and glaring at the pair, “Get down this instant, this is not how a Lady conducts herself.”

“Shut up Tully, let them have their reunion.” Of course his mother would have to have her say. And now they were fighting, perfect. “I am the Lady of this house, she is my daughter and will listen to what I tell her.”

“Yes, because being an empty headed little fish is so much better.”

“I will not be spoken to like this in my own home!”

“Then do something about it, oh that's right, you Southerners don’t believe in women fighting. You would rather let them sit there and look like a decoration then be of any real use.”

“I will not allow you to do as you please, you are no longer the Lady of Winterfell. You will listen to me as its Lady and not interfere with my children's lessons.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of ever interrupting your sewing circles, what would become of the North if you didn’t sow favors for your Knight’s.”

“Enough mother, leave my wife in peace.”

“Oh look who grew a set of balls, maybe the North won’t fall.”

“Mother,” he growled out, his glare now matching his wife’s. His mother simply gave him an unimpressed look. “Keep trying Eddard, maybe you’ll be able to scare a babe one day.” She walked towards Robb and looked him over, “Well you at least have the Stark face, regardless of your coloring.” His son just shook his head and smiled, “I’ve been told I act more sullen then my father these days.”

“That must be awful.”

“Indeed, he tried to tell a joke to one of the guardsmen once, poor man was depressed for a sennight after that.”

“Hahaha, finally someone with a sense of humor.” She grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. Ned and Catelyn could only look in shock as the two exchanged barbs back and forth. “It seems you’ve gotten grandmothers approval. Next thing you know you’ll be joining me in the training yard, I wish you luck with that Stark.”

“Is that a challenge Snow?”

“Is the wall cold?”

“It seems we’ll get to see how living in the mountains like a savage has made you in the yard.”

“Still better than living behind the walls like a weak little babe who’s never experienced any danger outside a sewing circle.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to see you two beat each other stupid with sticks later, I hear I have another grandchild?” She turned away from the pair and walked to his youngest, she crouched and smiled at Bran as he hid behind Sansa. “So I hear your the newest pup of House Stark, what should I call you?” He leaned out from behind Sansa’s leg, “Brandon, I liked being called Bran.”

“That’s a good name, there have been many Brandons of House Stark, some good and some bad. I wonder what kind of legacy you will leave?”

“I want to be a Knight and join the Kingsguard!!” Jon winced at his brothers answer. He had to only look at how his grandmothers smile, it had become strained and he could tell she was biting her tongue. “I see, I’m sure you have other interests to though, besides becoming a Knight?” Jon had to applaud his grandmothers effort, he had never heard her keep the venom out of her voice when it came to Knights. “I like to climb.”

“Oh, you must be very good then.”

“How would you know?” Bran’s eyes were wide and doe like. “Because you have Flint blood in you, those who come from Stonebreak Hill are always sure of foot.” Bran’s face lit up, “I really good, I’m able to climb to the third story on the broken tower.”

“BRANDON STARK!!!” Everyone winced at the sudden shout, “I have told you multiple times you are not to climb that tower. You will fall and hurt yourself one of these days!” 

“Don’t listen to her pup, Flints never fall, we don’t know how to.” Bran quickly looked away from his angry mother to his grandmother, “We don’t?” She simply smiled at him, “Of course not, we live in the mountains, if we fall when we climb we would have never made our home there.”

“Mother, please do not encourage him.” His mother just huffed before standing up, “We best get to your solar Ned, I have a reason, besides holding the keep, for my visit.” At those words he felt a pit form in his stomach, his mother was not known for asking to talk to him. She would just show up while he was in his solar or be there when he walked in. “Very well, Robb please see to it that the guards are settled. Jon, we had your old room made up for you.”

“Thank you Lord Stark.” He nodded and waved his mother to follow him, he hoped this wouldn’t cause even more fractures to form in his family.

* * *

As Ned sat down he gave a quick look over of the responses of his Lord’s, it seemed in total the North would be bringing around ten thousand men. Unlike most Kingdoms, the North knew the threat of the Ironborn all too well. They needed to be stopped quickly or they would start to affect the stores for winter. Several houses had already sent men to the western coast to form a defense against any possible raids. While not as large as the force that would attack Pyke it was still enough to hold the coast, nearly six thousand men, under Galbart Glovers command. Looking back up, he saw that his wife, as well as Maester Luwin, had joined him and his mother. “What is it that you needed mother?” She simply handed him a letter, Ned raised his eyebrow and took the parchment. As he went to break the seal he noticed the symbol on the wax, it was the Direwolf of House Stark. “What is this?”

“Your father's last gift to me.” All three pairs of eyes went to her at that statement. Rickard Stark was a hard headed and stubborn man, once an idea was in his head he rarely had his mind changed. The fact that he allowed Lyanna’s betrothal to Robert to continue, even after being beaten and forced to live as a stranger in his own house by his wife, showed that. Ned broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

** _“It is by my right as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North that I wright this proclamation. That the North has allowed itself to grow complacent, because we knelt to Aegon, first of his name, that we no longer had to worry of attacks from the South. But is the duty of the Stark’s to ensure that the North, and its people, are never to suffer at the hands of invaders. With my power I beseech that Moat Cailin, our strongest fortress, shall be repaired and rearmed. It’s Lord and Commander shall be chosen by my wife, Lyarra of Houses Stark and Flint, from the children of my own son’s and daughter. With this appointment shall come a forswearing of any other name or loyalty, they shall become the Stark of the Neck. They will be entrusted to be a shield against the enemies of the First Men, and to always protect the North. No matter where the threat comes from,_ **

** _Signed,_ **

** _Rickard Stark,_ **

** _Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North._ **

Ned, Catelyn and Luwin sat in silence at what had just been revealed, “You mean to make Jon Lord of the Moat, don’t you”

“It is what I have trained him to become.” Ned placed his hand on his face and rubbed his eyes, this would not go well. He looked at his wife and as he expected, she was red in the face and looked ready to kill his mother. “Cat…”

“FAKE,” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “You forged this didn’t you, DIDN’T YOU. You think I will allow that boy to become a Lord. If any child is going to receive Moat Cailin then it will be one of MY children. I will not allow that Bastard to seize power so he can threaten my sons claim to Winterfell. I will throw you, and the Bastard, in the dungeons for this treason against House Stark.” As she panted Catelyn looked quite pleased with herself, she would finally be able to end the threat to her children. She no longer had to worry about the coming day that the Bastard would try to usurp her family.

“Look at the writing you fool, not to mention the signature and seal. Those are my husbands, anyone who knew him would know that he was the one who wrote it, not me.”

“I’m afraid that she is right My Lady.”

“What do you mean Luwin?!”

“As you know, I was sent here to replace Maester Walys after his… accident.” Luwin looked at Lyarra with weary eyes, she just smirked back at him. “I was with Lord Rickard for nearly two years before his passing, I came to know his hand and his seal. This letter contains them both, it is Lord Rickards final orders My Lady.” Catelyn could feel her mouth drop, it was real, it… was… real. Which meant that the Bastard had power now, he was even more of a threat, she couldn’t allow this, she had to stop it. “Ned you can’t tell me that you will allow this, your father has long since past. Surely it makes more sense to give Moat Cailin to one of our own children, right?” Ned could see how desperate his wife was and he wished he could grant her request, to let Bran or maybe even Arya's husband be the future ruler of The Moat. But he couldn’t, if his Lords found out that he had disregarded his father’s final wishes it could lead to some very uneasy repercussion.

“He has no choice, his father was still Lord when the order was written. After I barred him from the Lords chambers he asked what he could do to earn my forgiveness. I told him I wanted to make sure that the North would be safe in the hands of at least one of my grandchildren, this was the result. There is nothing he can do that will not make him seem like a coward. And thanks to all his other decision, his popularity in the North is low, he would not survive it. He would be thrown from Winterfell and a new Lord would be chosen by the other Lords of the North.”

“He is seen as weak by his Lord’s because of you!! You are the one that has been spreading rumors, weakening his position and turning House Stark against each other!!!”

“HE DID THAT ALL HIMSELF, I warned him about building a Sept in the heart of the North.”

“You are the one that let it be known by all the Lords!!!”

“Are you that stupid, did you really think that they wouldn’t find out about it? That it would be allowed for your Southern ideas to flourish in the North, without notice? How much money was spent on colored glass for your precious Sept hmmm, how much for the paintings and marble, for all the golden candle holders and the candles themselves. How much money did my son waste to please one empty headed SOUTHERN FISH!!”

“THAT IS ENOUGH!! You will not speak to my Lady wife in such a way mother, I have had enough of your unearned hatred of the South!”

“Unearned, UNEARNED!!!” Ned could hardly react as he felt the smack across his face, “The South has earned every reason to be hated by us!!! Has your time in the Vale caused you to forget our history!? Those people were invaders, they took to killing the first men, our people, so they could have all of Westeros for themselves. They wiped out hundreds of House’s, they killed fathers and sons and raped the women leaving them with children. They then refused to claim them because they simply didn’t want them, nor the responsibility. Never mind that they did so because the Andal’s didn’t want to be held accountable for their actions. They pushed all their evil acts onto the children because how could they have done it, they were Knights, the blessed warriors of The Seven. They then had the gall to call those children Bastards, a word that the FUCKING ANDALS MADE UP, so that it was the children who were at fault. As though they had controlled them from the beyond and forced them to act as they did so they could be born. What House’s they didn’t rip out root and stem, were forced to marry their invaders and raise their children as Andals. They cut down and burned the Weirwoods and the Heart Tree’s, they slaughtered the children of the forest like animals!!! The North was the only Kingdom that successfully stood against them, for over five thousand years the Starks have been the defenders of the Old Gods and the old ways. And your letting what happened then happen now, you are allowing your children to be raised under false Gods. You allowed a Sept to be built in the very heart of the North, how long till the ways of our people are forgotten? How long until they start burning our tree’s and enslaving our people to their religious dogma? Will the Lord of House Stark be the one that will lead the charge this time? Will we allow monsters like Gregor Clegane to exist just because they are knighted?”

As his mother's rant ended he could not look at her, “Very well, I will see to it that The Moat is repaired when I get back.”

“Ned!!!”

“It is my father's order Cat, I have to follow it.”

“But what of the cost!?”

“The North will be due some reward for helping with the Ironborn, I’ll ask Robert for funds to help with it. Luwin, could you please work to draw up a timeline and cost for rebuilding.”

  
“There’s no need” Ned turned to look at his mother who had retaken her seat, “Your father had it all worked out while he was still alive. Check the bookcase, there should be a detailed list of expenses and plans to look through.” Ned simply nodded his head, he quickly dismissed the group and told Luwin to come back later for plans. As the door to his solar closed he felt his head began to throb, he had tried to continue his father's work by building relations with the South. The North could not remain as isolated as it once was, the South was starting to advance and his father had wanted the North to be a part of it. Now he realized why his father had been able to do little outside of marriages, his mother was now fighting him every step of the way, like she did his father. He quickly went to work on the final plans for the march south, he hoped being away from his mother would help cool the anger he had at her. He knew that most Northerners were very xenophobic, the mountain clans even more so, but he realized that they simply remembered what was done to them.  _ “The North remembers. And, apparently, doesn’t forgive” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? I wanted to make Jon Lord of the moat and thought this was an interesting way to do so. Also what do you think about Lyarra's reason to hating the South. I will also start taking names for Jon's house but it wont be SwampStark, SnowStark, WinterStark or anything like that. I will pick the one i think works best. Also the new schedul starts now and I will be updating this story in five days. after that it will be every ten. As always leave a comment and bookmark the story. And if you get the chance checkout my other stories. 
> 
> Until next time this is Huntsman out.


	3. Rematch and War Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb has a rematch with his brother after five long years. House Umber arrives and shares some terrifying news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, as promised its here five days after the last chapter. We also officially hit a hundred bookmarks. Thanks for all the support. Hope you all like the chapter.

“Talking (Common Tongue)”

_ “Thinking” _

** _“Letters and book text”_ **

**“Talking (Old Tongue)”**

** _“Famous Weapon or ship”_ **

** _{Talking (High Valyrian)}_ **

**{Talking (Bastard Valyrian)}**

* * *

Robb Stark sighed as he finished the yolk soaked bread of his morning meal, normally he would enjoy breaking his fast with his family but today was special. It was the day after his brother had arrived back in Winterfell after five long years. He had heard the rumors surrounding his brother and he was eager, the only kind of fight he had these days was against Winterfell guards. While he knew that his mother was the reason for the unwelcoming presence from the other Lords of the North, he still blamed himself more than her. If he had not gotten arrogant and made the mistake that had allowed Jon to brain him, his family would still be whole. He knew his mother didn’t care for his brother, an opinion that his sister Sansa was coming to share, it still made him sad. Jon had been his closest friend when he was a child, he still remembered the times of screaming out they were The Builder and The Dragon Knight reborn. He had thought Jon would be by his side forever, being his eyes and ears and helping House Stark to prosper. 

When Jon had left for the Mountains Robb had almost begged to go with him, he had been old enough to foster by then, and they could have remained together. But the look on his father's face as his grandmother made her plans to leave stopped him. He could see his father was angry about the situation his grandmother had put him in. Of the loss of one of his sons, and at himself for allowing it to happen. It had been lonely while Jon had been gone, Robb had fallen into a routine of lessons and meals with his family, and little else, as the loss of his brother slowly healed. When the rumors had come to Winterfell about how strong his brother was getting it had filled Robb like wood for a fire. He swore that he would not fall behind, that the next time the pair met they would be on an even footing. His mother had grown concerned at his sudden will to fight any who had challenged him in the yard, no matter who they were or how many there were. His father had just smiled when he had answered about his sudden drive to grow strong. “It seems that House Stark will be safe in your hands one day, after you’ve managed not to pass out fighting two men at once.”

Now the time had come, for him and Jon to cross blades once more and see how far his training had taken him. He stood from his seat as he quickly finished his water, he gave Sansa a quick peck on the cheek and ruffled Arya and Bran’s hair before heading outside. When he arrived at the yard he was surprised to find Jon already warming up. He had taken his shirt off and was doing push-ups one handed. Robb was surprised at the amount of scars that littered his brothers body, they looked like they belonged more on a seasoned hunter then his little brother. “What are you doing Snow? Trying to tire yourself out so you have an excuse on why you lost to me.” His brother turned his head at the jab and smiled, “More like I'm trying to even the odds. Can’t go breaking that pretty face of yours, it's your only redeeming quality after all.”

“Oh, if anyone has a pretty face here it's you, why don’t you go ask Sansa to borrow a dress and join the rest of the Ladies sowing.”

“What good would that do, I know you need all the help you can get but fighting in a dress and with a needle is a little much. Do you have so little confidence in how you swing a sword that I need to forgo any weapon at all.”

“It should suit your fighting style just fine, after all you mountain savages can only use rocks right?”

“Yes we do, their helpful when it comes to breaking arrogant Lordlings faces.”

“Always the first to resort to violence, how do you find time to do anything else but grunt and yell like a beast all day.”

“We don’t have to take half the mourning to oil or head’s and beards with expensive oils so we can smell like Southern flowers.”

“What beard, I see no beard on those cheeks, I bet I’d find more on the flesh of fruits.”

“Don’t you know, the longer a beard takes to grow, the thicker it will become. Though judging by the fuzz coming from you you’ll have the same beard as an old woman.”

“You sure seem to know a lot about old wome….”

“WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP AND FIGHT ALREADY!!” The pair turned to find Arya, having escaped her lessons, sitting on a barrel. She had apparently decided to come have a look at the pairs spar. They saw that Bran was next to her on the wooden fence. Robb simply shook his head and walked over to the training rack, grabbing a pair of swords and tossing one to Jon, who caught it one handed, and took a stance. Just as the two were beginning to circle each other they were stopped. “What are you doing Jon?” His brother seemed to hiss, as if he had been hit, as their grandmother walked into the yard. “Why are you training with a sword?”

“Robb … ah… wanted a spar… er, so I thought that…”

“Enough, you know you have an order to keep, what weapon is today's?”

“Spear.”

“So what should you be fighting with?”

“A spear.”

“So what are you going to do?” His brother simply sighed and walked back over to the rack and replaced the sword. He then walked over to a rack opposite of the yard and grabbed a training spear. The staff was five feet long and tipped with a wooden ball, Robb raised his brow at the exchange and weapons replacement. He didn’t know his brother had trained in anything but the sword, even dual wielding was what he thought Jon’s limit had been. His brother took his place once more, this time he had the spear pointed tip down, grasped in both hands. He held if straight and close to his body, his arms pointing the same direction, as if he was swinging a club. The two resumed circling, Robb watched his brothers body closely. He was wound as tight as a bow string yet his feet moved gracefully, like the dancing mummers Robb had seen in Wintertown. Robb tried to move just as swiftly but almost tripped himself, he had not practiced his footwork as much as he had his sword swings.

Deciding it was a bad idea to try and keep up the circling he charged his brother, he crossed the field between them in three large steps. As he swung down towards his brothers shoulder he felt his balance shift, before he knew it he felt his arm slam into the ground. He sat up to see his brother had resumed his stance and just staring at him, there was no smile or glimmer in his eyes. He did not laugh or jab as Robb had seen others do in the yard, as he himself had done. There was just a blank face, in that moment Robb saw his father in his brother, but there was something else. While his brother had the long face of a Stark, his face as a whole was different, his cheeks stood higher speaking of his mother being nobility. 

His jaw was not as square as Robbs own and was more angular, he knew people called his brother pretty as a maid. But seeing it here, his features set against the battle stance of a soldier, not a green boy but someone who had seen and felt death showed how different they were. It was with this thought that he finally saw the scars on his brothers left shoulder, three large slashes with what looked like burns around the edges. The wound had been cartelized, he knew from Luwin that cartelizing was only used as a last ditch effort. He was pulled out of his thoughts as his side vision caught the spear tip coming for his head. He quickly fell to his back to dodge the weapon, as he jumped to his feet he had to jump to the side to avoid a thrust. He then jumped to avoid a swipe at his feet and had little time to react as he felt the ball slam into his chest. His brother had changed his grip as he swung and had quickly thrust the spear to where he would land.

He hit the ground hard, before he could even move he felt the ball pressed against his neck, “Dead.” That was the only word his brother said as he drew back and walked back to his side of the yard. He resumed his starting stance and waited, it seemed that he wanted to continue. Robb slowly stood up and grabbed his sword, he took his place opposite of Jon and resumed his own stance. He heard Rodrick give the count, as soon as he hit one his brother seemed to fly across the yard. Robb could barely move to defend himself before he felt the ball slam into his sword hand. As he dropped his blade he felt it slam into his leg, before he could understand what had happened, Jon swung it up and slammed it into his head. Robb saw stars as he hit the ground again, “Dead.” His brother took up his stance and position yet again. Robb had to take several seconds to gain his bearings before he grabbed his sword and once more faced his brother. Rodricks count came and went and his brother charged again, this time rapidly thrusting his spear. Robb was able to deflect the first but the second came before he could move his blade back. He was struck in the left shoulder, followed by his belly, his chest and right arm. Jon then swung the ball up and slammed it into his chin, “Dead.” Robb flew backwards and landed on his back, again. It took several minutes, though they felt like hours, before he could gather his mind and move again.

When he was able to stand he could see Jon was back in position, Robb felt his anger begin to grow. How were they so far apart, they were separated in age by mere months, how could his brother be so much stronger than him? Robb didn’t even wait for the count, he simply charged at his brother, his Wolfs Blood pumping. He swung hard and was blocked by the spear, he kept swinging but his brother blocked every swing. Jon then slammed his fist into Robb's throat, Robb dropped his blade as he reached for his spasming windpipe. Jon then smacked him in the head with the flat end of the spear dazing him, he then swung the ball and took out his legs. As Robb felt himself fall his brother grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the ground, his spear tip placed at his throat, “Dead.” Jon stood up and resumed his place in the yard, but Robb hardly noticed. He had turned over, so he was on all fours, and tried to breath. Each gasp for air brought pain and coughing, he saw blood had started coming out of his mouth, he took several more raspy breaths and stood up. He grabbed his sword but he was hardly in any position to fight, bruises were beginning to show on his face and he swayed where he stood. 

“Alright lad, I think it’s time for you to rest.” Robb ignored Ser Rodrick and began to run towards is brother. Jon didn’t even attack him, he simply side stepped and placed his spear where Robb’s feet would be. He hit the ground face first, he quickly got up and attacked Jon again, the same thing happened, Jon dodged him and left his spear to trip him. Robb kept standing to charge his brother and Jon tripped him. By the tenth time Robb couldn’t even run, he simply stumbled over to his brother and tried to swing his sword. His brother simply caught the blade, “That’s enough Robb, you need to go rest.”

“Fuck you Snow, I’ll leave the yard when I’m dead”

“Very well.” Robb had no chance to react as his brothers fist hit his temple, Robb saw black spots start to cover his vision. He felt his brother catch him as he fell, _ “Fucking prick didn’t have to take me so serious.” _ Was his last thought as he felt sleep take hold of him.

* * *

The yard stood silent as the Stark Heir passed out in his brothers arms, most of the guards could not even understand what they had seen. While young, Robb was very dangerous in the yard, he had a tenacity that made up for the lack of skill and age. But this boy, who was scantily younger than him, had just made him seem like a child compared to him. Most of them had heard the rumors of the boy, they had simply thought that it was exaggerated. But he fought with the skill of a man three times his age, his movements were clean and without flaw. They watched as the boy laid his brother on the ground next to his other siblings He then walked back to his spear and stood in the middle of the yard, “Who’s next?”

Many of them blinked at them, yes the kid was good, but they were the household guard to the Starks. Several younger guards walked over to the boy and quickly encircled him, _ “Five, six, eight in total, most look rather green compared to Rodrick and Jory. I had hoped the older members would have taken up my offer but it looks like they are letting the younger generation test him first.” _Jon simply shrugged and held the spear out in one hand, its ball held towards the ground as he looked at his opponents. They all held swords, it seemed none of them had thought to have any variation to throw him off. Jon watched and waited as they all circled him, it was the one to his back right that made the move first. He rushed Jon with a swipe at his head that he ducked under before turning on the ball of his right foot. He took out the guards legs with a quick swipe before bringing the spear up and slamming the ball down in a straight downward slash onto his head.

The guard groaned as he held his face, thinking he was distracted, another one tried to take advantage of his crouched position and hit the back of his head. Jon quickly fell back onto his hands, like a crab, before doing a handstand. While he was upside down he slammed his foot into the jaw of the guard next to him. He quickly returned to his feet as he saw guard fall to the ground. Two more charged him with cries of vengeance, Jon didn’t hesitate to put them down. He quickly spun his spear and slammed the ball into the left one before blocking the other’s strike. He released his spear and, while he was falling forward, grabbed the guard with both hands bringing him down onto his raised knee, breaking his nose. He put his foot under his spear and kicked it back into his hands, he took a quick look around the yard and saw the last four guards close together and staring at him. He twirled the spear in his hand and quickly took aim, _ “Lets see if I can hit a living target.” _ He pulled his arm back and, with a grunt, threw it straight at the middle right guard. The throw was true and the ball slammed him in the eye he quickly dropped to the ground, a look of surprise on his face. The others stared at their fallen friend before turning to each other, they quickly faced him and came rushing. They seemed to believe that, because he had thrown his spear, he was defenseless. Jon showed them how wrong they were when he reached down and grabbed the two swords from the fallen guards next to him. He gave each sword a quick spin before rushing to meet the guards, they quickly stopped at his charge and readied their weapons to meet him. He didn’t stop his charge and smacked away the left blade before parring the middle one as it swung for him. As he ducked under the last swords swipe he brought both blades and swung them down toward the left guard.

The man was able to stop them both by holding his blade sideways but was not expecting the amount of force behind the blow. His knees buckled and gave way as he fell to his back, Jon withdrew from the melee, before he overextended himself, to see the situation. The middle guard was now standing over his other friends as the right helped the left up. Jon gave them little time to recover and quickly charged the middle guard, raining blow after blow on the guard as he protected his fallen friend. The guard was good, better than the others even, he moved the blade with as little effort as was needed to block his opponent. But he couldn’t keep up with Jon’s speed and missed a slash to his side. Jon was able to use the slip in concentration to quickly strike him thrice more, once in his shoulder and twice in the stomach. The guard went down but, he had bought his friends the time needed for them to recover, both remaining guards rushed Jon before the last went down. Jon felt the left guards sword slam into is own, while the right one was able to slip past his defenses and strike his hand. Jon tightened his grip, as his cousin had taught him, if he lost one of his swords now he would be at a disadvantage and the match would take longer to end. 

He threw himself at the guard who had hit him and slammed his shoulder into him, the guard stumbled backward, leaving Jon with both arms free. He quickly unleashed a rapid series of slashes and thrusts on the left guard, he had to put him down before the other one got up. The guard was far from being as good as his friend had been and was quickly overwhelmed, his guard breaking. He fell to the floor, holding his face and chest, leaving Jon with only one opponent. The guard seemed to have learned from the spar that Jon was a difficult opponent in a head on attack and waited for him to charge. Jon was growing tired, he had been fighting for almost and hour on top of his morning warm up and he had yet to break his fast. He decided to throw his opponent off by doing something that was very stupid and would see him killed in any real fight.

He walked towards the guard, who grew shocked at his casual approach, and simply swung his left blade. The guard blocked it but never saw the punch coming towards his head, he was dazed and never stood a chance. He lowered his weapon and quickly caught Jon’s sword with his jaw, falling to the floor with a thud. Jon was panting slightly as he threw his remaining sword at Ser Rodrick, “I’m going to break my fast, come get me if you need anything.” He walked towards the Hall but was stopped by his grandmother, “You used a sword.” He turned to face her, “I did.”

“Why?”

“I used my spear to hit the man across the yard from me”

“Why?”

“To stop him.”

“No you decided to show off, you disarmed yourself for a fancy throw when it would have been easier to just fight with the spear. Am I wrong?”

“…”

“That's what I thought, you will face the same punishment for that as you would for breaking the cycle. Am I understood?”

“Yes grandmother.” she nodded her head and walked with her grandson to break their fast leaving the yard in stunned silence again. The lack of noise was fixed when Arya finally saw fit to speak, “THAT WAS AMAZING, DID YOU SEE THAT BRAN.” That seemed to break the spell, “Alright you lot, get these men back on their feet. You all still have jobs to do, and someone help Lord Robb to the Maester. He took a pretty bad beating.” Ser Rodricks orders seemed to get the guards moving, Arya went with the two guards carrying Robb, while Bran went to inform his father. His mother always told him that they had to inform his father or her anytime one of them was taken to the Maester. _ “Maybe Jon could take me as his Squire, if I’m taught by him I’ll make it into the Kingsguard for sure.” _ His happy thoughts causing him to smile all the way to his father's solar. 

* * *

Ned watched the banners of House Umber ride into his courtyard with a mixture of trepidation and weariness. His youngest son had come into his solar three days ago to tell him his eldest and heir was with the Maester thanks to a spar with Jon. He had thanked his son before quickly making his way to Luwins chambers, the sight of his son caused his blood to grow hot in his body. His son was awake, not unconscious as Bran had said he was, and was being treated by the aged Maester. He appeared to be listening to Arya as she recounted what had happened after Robb had been knocked unconscious.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

“You should have seen him Robb, he knocked them down one after another while only getting hit a few times himself. It was like watching one of those tales about the Sword of the Morning, but right in front of you!!”

“What are you talking about Arya?” She turned around and smiled at her father, “Jon!” Of course it was is son, what else could get the girl this worked up and excited. “After he handed Robb his arse in the training yard, he beat another eight guards at the same time!”

“Arya, mind your language and your volume. We are in the Maesters tower and there maybe others recovering.”

“Yes father.” He nodded his head before he pulled the girl away from Robb and Luwin, who was trying to treat his bruised face, and began to question his daughter. “Now, you said that Jon beat another eight of Winterfell's guards on his own?” The girl's head nodded so fast it look as though it was being pulled back and forth. “You should have seen him father, he looked like a warrior straight out of the Legends from the Age of Heroes.” Ned grimaced at his daughter's words, it seemed his mother had done more than just train Jon to be the Lord of the Moat. “I’m sure you can tell me all about it later, for now though, could you go alert your mother of Robb’s location.”

“Yes father.”

“Good girl.” Arya quickly ran out of the room, only barely hearing her father's last words. “And then make sure to return to your lessons!!” Ned shook his head at his youngest daughters actions before turning to his son. “What happened Robb?”

“I failed.” Ned blinked at the words. “What do you mean you failed?”

“I failed everything. I failed at my training. I failed at staying close to Jon. And I failed at being worthy of the Stark name!!!”

“Son it was just a spar, losing in the training yard doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the Stark name.”

“It wasn’t just the spar, it was how Jon acted. He didn’t banter or make fun of me while we fought, he just stood there waiting. His face was blank the entire time we spared, everything I threw at him didn’t even make him flinch he just kept planting my arse into the ground and telling me I was dead every time. I knew that there were rumors about his skill but they don’t even come close to the truth. He fought me with a spear father, a spear, and he completely dominated me. No matter what I did, he would just move away and attack me three fold. His strikes felt like they should come from a grown man, NOT MY LITTLE BROTHER!!!”

Ned looked at his son, not knowing what to say, as he panted after his rant. It was after several minutes of silence that Ned finally answered is son. “You're not any less worthy of your name, just because you lost to Jon, Robb. Your brother might be better than you, but that's because your grandmother has put him through hell for his training. I was going to wait to tell anyone until after the Ironborn threat had been put down, but your grandmother has raised Jon with the intention of seeing him as Lord of the Moat.” That caused Robb to snap his head towards his father, which caused him to wince as his neck was still sore, and stare at him. “You are giving Jon Moat Cailin?”

“It is not by my word that it is happening, but by my fathers.”

“Grandfather Rickards words, how is he ordering it?”

“My mother feared for the future of the North, due to my fathers Southern ambitions, and wanted to make sure that someone would protect and stand ready to defend the North. My father wrote an order stating that my mother was allowed to pick a grandchild, from either me or my siblings, to make the Lord and Commander of the Moat. She chose Jon, and has raised him as such, so that he may assume command of the strongest fortress in the North. He has not been raised to be a Lord like you Robb, he has been raised to be a soldier and battle commander for the North’s armies.”

“What of Moat Cailin’s state, I have never seen it but, I hear that it is in a state of disrepair?”

“He also ordered for it to be reconstructed, he even had plans and costs drawn up before his death. I have been looking over the estimates with Luwin and it seems that it will cost around six hundred thousand dragons to repair the Moat and arm it. Robbs eyes bulged at the number, “Father the amount of tax House Stark collects in a year is just a little over eighty thousand after sending a portion to the crown. It would take the entirety of the next eight years, at the very least, to have that much gold. We would have nothing left to use during winter for food or repairs to towns and other castle’s.”

“We have money put away for repairs such as these, while it might not be much we will at least have enough to lay the groundwork. I will also ask the King for a boon after the war has ended, I just hope it will be enough to get us to at least half the cost. After that the Moat should be repaired enough that construction can be sped-up, what with most of the heavy, and dangerous, work completed.”

“I understand father… does Jon know?”

“No, I will tell him upon my return that he is to be Lord, but I will send him and several others to assess the state of the Moat.” Robb nodded his head and was stopped from talking further by Maester Luwin. “While this talking is all and good, I think you need do rest Lord Robb. You took quite the beating out in the yards today.”

“Haha yeah, Jon always one do hammer in my mistakes, usually at the point of a sword. It seems he’s expanded his teaching tools to include spears now.” Ned shook his head at his son and got up to leave so is son could rest. “Father?” He turned back around to see his son looking up at him from his layed position. “Yes son?”

“Who’s going to tell mother about this?”

“I sent Arya to tell her.” Robbs faced looked like he was almost in pain, and not from his spar. “You sent the she-wolf to tell mother about what Jon did in the yard?” Ned blinked for a second as his mind processed his sons words before he came to a horrible realization. “Oh fuc….”

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

When his wife had found out about the state Robb had been put in, she had wanted to throw Jon in the dungeons and bring charges of treason against him. Robb had tried to placate his mother, saying that he was the one that forced the spar to continue and that it was his own stubbornness to stop that led to his injuries, but it had only enraged her more. Ned had been forced to drag Catelyn from the Maesters tower, to their own, before locking them both in the Lords chambers. He had tried to calm her but had been forced her to sit down and be silent when she began to scream of a murder plot against her son. He then had explained that Robb was the one at fault for his current state and if she were to interfere, like she had when Robb was young, it would only hurt him. Robb was already seen as less than a man because of his mother's action when he was a child, and overeating would only hurt him more.

Catelyn had glared at him, but she knew he was right about what people would think. Jon had won the spar through his own power, the guards he fought after Robb testifying to his skill with a blade. She had let the issue go but had still forbidden Robb from fighting his brother again, the boy had agreed but Ned could tell he would not hold to the promise. Now his family stood to welcome one of his trusted and loyal bannermen, including his mother and Jon. Ned was forced to focus as the loud booming laugh of Jon ‘Greatjon’ Umber sounded from the retinue of riders. “NED, it's good to see you. How have you been you miserable old wolf.” Ned could only smile at his friend, let it never be said that the Greatjon didn’t know how to break the tension in an area. “I am doing well Jon, how has Last Hearth doing?”

“HAHAHA, we had to kill a band Wildlings a few weeks back. Funny thing about that band, they were all men and used steel weapons.” Ned’s face turned serious at that bit of information. “You think it was an Ironborn attack?”

“They didn’t attack us Ned.”

“What?” 

“They were trying to sneak into the North and ran into one of our patrols. My uncle brought back the bodies because of his suspicions that they weren’t a normal band of Wildlings.”

“You think they were trying to sneak spies into the North?”

“If war has been declared then they are taking steps to make sure that they can win.”

“But what purpose does it serve.”

“It allows them to sow chaos.” The pair of men turned to see Jon with a thoughtful look on his face. “What do you mean lad?” Greatjon asked. “They know that they would have little chance against the full might of Westeros. So they took steps to remove each Kingdoms ability to bring a full army to attack the Iron Islands. They burned the Lannister fleet, which crippled the number of ships that could be used as a whole, not to mention the raiding that they have done on the coast. The same with the Reach, by raiding the Fair Isles they make it impossible for the Redwynes to focus on attacking them without fear of leaving the Arbor undefended. Mace Tyrell is a known coward and braggart, he would not allow the full Redwyne fleet to leave the Reach if he even thought he might be attacked as a result, thus decreasing the number of ships yet again. That leaves only the Royal Fleet, which has yet to be rebuilt from the Rebellion, and a few Lords from the Riverlands. It also force’s Stannis Baratheon to lead the only ships that the crown has left to use instead of leading the forces from the Stormlands.”

“What about King Robert? He is from the Stormlands.”

“It’s not that simple Robb, King Robert can not show any favoritism to his homeland. If he were to lead them then other Lords would call into question his brothers ability as Lord of Storm’s End. With Renly Baratheon barely being older than us, and unwed, it is unlikely that he will join his brothers and is more likely to appoint a commander from his Lords. Without a Baratheon to lead them, the Storm Lords are less likely to send a large amount of troops and instead will focus on protecting their own borders instead. That leaves three Kingdoms and the Crown Lands unable to bring their full strength, which leaves only the North, Vale, Dorne and Riverlands against them. Dorne would sooner help the Greyjoys then send aid to fight against them, more than likely, they are probably laughing at Tywin’s misfortune then anything.”

“But why the spies? They would be unable to get a force large enough to hold a castle through unnoticed.”

“But they can snatch someone and take them hostage.” The courtyard grew very silent and very tense at that. “They wouldn’t dare.” Robb growled out at Jons answer, Ned looked at his son as he balled his fists hard enough that they began to bleed. “You and your siblings have three Kingdoms linked to you by blood Robb. You are the children of the Warden of the North along with being the grandchildren of the Lord of the Riverlands. Your aunt is married to the Warden of the East, who also fostered your father and King Robert together when they were boys. Taking even just one of you hostage stops three Kingdoms from doing anything so as to keep you safe. With that most of the coastal Lords in Westeros would be left to fend for themselves because no one would lend them aid, due to a lack a ships, hostages held to force submission or fear for one's own borders, the Ironborn would be free to do as they want.”

“Those… fucking… COWARDS!!!” Robb slammed his fist into the wall behind him. “Robb, language!!” Came his mother's reply. The Greatjon put his hand on Robb’s shoulder and pulled him back. “Easy lad, your family is safe, no need to break your hand.” Robb breathed deeply as he tried to calm himself, “Thank you Lord Umber.”

“No trouble lad.” He let go of Robb’s shoulder and walked back over to Ned. “What do you want to do Ned?”

“I need to double security around my family if what Jon says is true.”

“We can easily check if it is, Lord Umber did you find anything odd on the Ironborn. Something that wouldn’t fit as something a Wildling would carry?”

“The only thing we found that seemed out of place was a letter with one sentence, ‘find the fishmonger.’” Jon stopped to think on the sentence before his eyes grew wide and fearful, he quickly turned and looked at his sister. “They’re aim is to kidnap Sansa.” The whole household gasped and shock took hold of the group. Catelyn grabbed her daughter, who burrowed into her mother's arms and whimpered, hugging her close. “How can you be sure Jon?” Ned asked gravelly. “She’s the most obvious choice, if they were to take Robb or even Bran they might try and fight. If they did then they would be forced to take measures to stop them which might make them less valuable. Better to take a woman that can easily be threatened with ruining then a man and Sansa is known to act more demure then Arya. She would be easy to grab and hand off to whoever would take her back to the Iron Islands while making little fuss.”

“But how would they know how Sansa acts, most news about the North doesn’t travel past the neck and the things said about her could be false?”

“That just means they have to have someone working for them in Wintertown, ‘fishmonger’ must be the code for the snatcher. Sansa looks make her a smaller version of her mother so she must be seen as a fish to be sold.”

“But Sansa never goes into Wintertown unguarded, none of the children do, how could they grab her?”

“Who knows how long the Ironborn have been planning this. Someone could have been staying here for years, watching and reporting all of her movements, seeing how she acts or the shops and stands she frequents during her outings. If the group that the Greatjon’s people caught had been aloud to make it here without problem then the person, whoever they are, that is meant to grab Sansa could have said she was taken by Wildlings. We would have spent time and manpower heading north towards the Wall to stop them when they were actually headed west, towards the coast. They might have even had a ship or boat waiting for them to take Sansa back to Pyke. By the time we realized the truth she would be too well defended to chance a rescue.” Ned turned to his wife and daughter, “Sansa, until the end of the Greyjoy threat, you are forbidden from leaving the castle. All of you are.”

“But father…”

“No Robb, I will not chance them deciding to take you instead of your sister. You will all have at least four guards with you at all times and you are not to leave their sight. If I catch you trying to ditch your guard you will suffer the worst punishment I can think, and it won’t be kind.” His children nodded, even if they didn’t like it. “That goes for you too Jon.” That caused the boy to go wide eye, “What, why? I don’t have the same level of importance as Robb and the others. Taking me serves no purpose, it wouldn’t stop the North from joining the war, nor the Vale or Riverlands.” 

“I don’t care, you are my son and you will listen to my orders as your Lord father.”

“If you need a guard for the lad Ned my own boy is with me, they get along well enough with each other.”

“I thank you for the offer Lord Umber but I don’t need nursemaids watching me, I am perfectly capable of fighting of a few Ironborn.” The giant of a man only nodded, he had seen the boys skill himself at Last Hearth. “That you are lad, that you are.”

“It is not something that you can decide for yourself Jon, you will have a guard to protect you the same as your siblings.” Jon scowled and looked ready to argue before he felt a hand on his arm, he turned to find his grandmother looking at him. Her lips were pressed together in a frown and she had one eyebrow raised, her thoughts on his safety were clear. Jon deflated at the look before sighing, “Fine, but if I must suffer being guarded by others, I will pick them.” He turned from his grandmother back to Lord Umber, “I would be happy to have your son with me for the next few moons my Lord.” The man just laughed and clapped Jon on the back, “Cheer up lad. I’ll make sure to squash those squids for you.”

“Not sure if that's the best way to kill them, you’d have to be close enough to smell them and I know the smell of rotting fish is something awful.”

“HAHAHA, not as bad as the chamber pots at Last Hearth when my Uncle finishes his business with them.” Jon gagged at the memory, he had thought there was a body beginning to decay inside the man's room when he had walked past. “I never knew, until then, that the reason you called him ‘Crowfood’ was because he smelled like a dead animal.”

“Hahaha, It’s because he doesn’t know how to wash properly. Always comes home smelling like that damn snow bear on his back.”

“And he wonders why Lady Donella wouldn’t give him the time of day when she was younger.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA.” The pair left laughing as they headed towards the Umber retinue to find ‘Smalljon’ Umber. Ned watched his son go with a slight worry at how well he got on with the Umber’s of Last Hearth. He knew that Jon had fought a band of Wildlings with them a few years ago, but the Greatjon was not a man who became friends with someone easily. He was a prideful and boisterous man who thought little of those who didn’t prove themselves capable of something. He only ever acted like he did with Jon around fellow soldiers, what had his son been doing the last five years to earn the respect of the hardest man Ned knew. He had thought it strange when he had seen Jon dragging a large chain around Winterfell's walls the last few days. He had been told it was Jon’s punishment for breaking his training schedule, now he wondered what his daily training was when he was at Stonebreak Hill.

He let his son go with his bannerman and called Jory over. “I want a full set of guards on my children in the next hour. Four must always be present with each of my children and I want shift changes every eight hours. The guards are to work for no more than a week before being rotated with the other guards.”

  
“Yes Lord Stark.” Jory began to bark orders and gather his men. Ned wanted to set out now, and end the threat to his family, but there were still several more Lords meeting at Winterfell with their forces. _ “A sennight, after that I can leave and end this threat, permanently.” _ Ned felt the Wolf’s Blood flow threw him for the first time since facing Ser Arthur at the Tower of Joy. He would see Balon and House Greyjoy brought to justice for daring to even think of taking his family. Unbenounced to him, his face had become a snarl and his teeth had begun to nash together at the thought of his children coming to harm. His mother caught the change in the corner of her eye and smiled at him approvingly. _ “It’s about fucking time.” _she cheered in her mind as she walked away from the courtyard, her son was finally regrowing his fangs at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? I'm making the Ironborn seem more cunning with how long they've had to be planning this, which I think is reasonable. Right now Balon is not blinded by revenge so he has the focus to make such a plan. After all, they do burn Lannisport in canon, which had to take some careful planning and sabotage to work flawlessly. Also we see how Jon's mother has trained him to understand all major players, and their thought process to make him a deadly commander.
> 
> As always leave a comment and bookmark the story, until next time  
this is Huntsman out.


	4. Friends, Foes and First Loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon reunites with his friends why Rickard Karstark thinks back to Jon saving his family. The Greyjoys plots go farther then anyone could have thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: ASSAULT AND ATTEMPTED RAPE IN THIS CHAPTER
> 
> (For all those laughing at the auto correct to grape haha, but you can stop now.)
> 
> Sorry this chapter is shorter then normal, i'll tall you at the end. Go read.

“ Talking (Common Tongue)”

_ “Thinking” _

** _“Letters and book text”_ **

**“Talking (Old Tongue)”**

** _“Famous Weapon or ship”_ **

** _{Talking (High Valyrian)}_ **

**{Talking (Bastard Valyrian)}**

* * *

Jon waived to the Greatjon as he went to check with his men, and not doubt grab some much needed rest, and walked towards one of his oldest and closest friends. “Well if it isn’t the smallest Umber in the History of the North, already four and ten and yet to break seven feet. How your ancestors must be weeping for how weakened their line had become.” The man, or what could be confessed as a man from his large build, turned from his talk with a guard to smile at the taunt. “And if it isn’t Lady Snow, the prettiest maid in the entire North. I’m surprised you haven’t been taken as a wife by one of those Mountain Clansmen.”

“They'd sooner find themselves losing their cocks then having a night of pleasure with myself. At that's after my grandmother has had her pound of flesh.” At that the two embraced and Jon was lifted up by the heir of House Umber. “It is good to see you Snow.”

“You as well Smalljon.” Smalljon placed Jon back on the ground and turned back to the guard he was speaking with. “Have the men ready to welcome the rest of the North's forces by tomorrows end, my father says the Karstarks were not far behind us.” The guard nodded and rushed to comply with his orders, Smalljon watched the man go before he reached into the cart next to him. He shuffled several things around before he gave a shout of triumph and produced his treasure, a wine skin. “What say you and me find a place to sit and you tell me of your time in the wild.” At Jon's eyebrow the Umber explained. “Your grandmother replied to one of my ravens, she said that you had been sent out into the wild to survive by your great-uncle. That you stand before me speaks of your success, I wish to hear the story.”

Jon smiled and grabbed the wine skin from his friend. “Very well, we best go to the Godswood. It is the only place I know that we would not be disturbed.”

“Now I know your not about to go off and have fun without me?” The question was followed with a pair of arms locking Jon's head. As he gave a cry of distress, Jon knew instantly who it was. For only one man was able to piss him off so quickly. “DAMMIT ASHER, RELEASE ME!” His cry was answered with a laugh as Asher Forrester tightened his grip with his right arm and began to rub his left fist on Jon’s head. “Oh lighten up Snow, you need to stop worrying about everything, else your hair with go grey before you have a chance to grow any on that pretty face of yours.”

“I will kill you Asher, I will make you suffer like a Southern Knight does when faced with the chill of winter.”

“Big words from such a small child.”

“RELEASE ME ALREADY DAMMIT!!” Asher sighed before dropping Jon from his arms and placing them behind his head. “You need to learn not to be so tense Jon, it's bad for your health.” Jon just glared at him. “I will kill you Asher. And then I will bury your body so deep that you will only be found by Gendel and his savages.”

“Or maybe the Grumpkins and Snarks will get him first, I guess it will depend on where you bury the body.”

“Even they wouldn’t want his body its to fowl, after all, who would want to have food that tastes like pig shit.”

“I fell in the pig pen once!!”

“Twice.”

“That we know of.” Asher pouted at the laughing pair before reaching down and grabbing the wine skin Jon had dropped during Asher’s greeting. “I’m going to go drown my sorrows at the betrayal of my two closest friends in this wine skin.” Smalljon reached over and grabbed the skin before he could depart. “Come on Forrester, we can enjoy this as Snow tells us of the battles he fought against nature as he roamed the mountains of the North.”

“You should join a mummers troupe Umber, what with your flair for dramatics.” The three left the Courtyard laughing and japing with each other, they had not seen each other in nearly a year and it was far past time for them to talk of their adventures.

* * *

Rickard Karstark rode down the Kings road as he looked to his children riding at his side. Harrion and Eddard were old enough now, twenty and one and ten and seven respectively, that they were joining him for the war. His youngest son Torrhen, ten and five, was to guard his sister while they stayed in Winterfell. The thought of his daughter brought a small amount of pain to his chest, she was a beautiful girl. Even though she was a few moons shy of her one and two name day she was already beginning to cause him trouble. She had always been a kind and quiet girl, she hated to cause trouble for others but she was just as smart as she was kind. 

It was only in the last year that his daughter had begun to challenge him and grow the same stubborn streak that all Karstarks had. When she had met Jon Snow.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

* * *

Rickard growled as he felt the bolt in his gut inch closer to his lung, with every breath he took he could feel head touch is lung. It forced him to remain still and watch, his young daughter of nine name days buried in his shoulder, as the few guards he had left were killed. He had been on his way back to Karhold after talks with Lord Hornwood about a betrothal between his daughter and Daryn Hornwood. While they had not signed any agreement yet he had hope that he had found his daughter's husband. The boy had been kind enough and he was far from hideous, Alys had seemed to like him as the two had spent several hours strolling through the Hornwood gardens. Now he was regretting ever making the trip, they were north of the Dreadfort and another weeks ride, at least, before Karhold when they were set upon by bandits.

They had used crossbows to kill the front, back and wagon horses, within a few seconds of each other, creating a kill box for the rest of his men. His near thirty guard troop had had half their numbers filled with bolts before they had even known what was going on. Then a half dozen or so men had jumped from the trees above them and killed several more of his men before they could draw their swords to fight back. He had been able to kill the two who had gone after himself and another that was dragging his daughter out of the wagon before he had been shot in the back and again once he had turned around. Now he watched as the bandits began to loot his men's corpses as the shooters walked out of the dense woods. He was able to identify the leader by the rusted chainmail and mismatched plate armor he wore.

The bastard was a former sworn brother of the Night's Watch by the name of Alan, who had grown tired of the cold and service at the wall and had abandoned his post in favor of plundering the lands south of the Wall. He had raided the Watch’s armory, along with several other sworn brothers, killing the guards who had been on duty. They had been reported almost six moons ago but no one had seen them, now he saw they had been hiding in the lands of the Boltons. The man spoke to several of his companions before turning and smiling at him. “Lord Rickard, so sorry that we had to inconvenience your travel home but we are in need of some help.” Rickard forced himself to his knee to stand, regardless of the pain in his gut, and growled at the man in front of him. “You think I’d help an Oathbreaker like you? Once I stand I’ll take your head and give it to old Jeor alongside the rest of your group.”

The man sighed and shook his head before he whistled and Rickard felt pain rock the leg he had been trying to stand with. As he crashed back into the ground he looked at the bolt that had gone through his leg now buried in the ground. “I’m quite sad to hear that, perhaps we will have a better chance with your heir.”

“Harrion will never help you, not even if it meant my life.” Alan smirked as he bent down and gripped his hair, pulling his face up to meet him. “It’s not your life that he need worry about.” Rickards eyes widened as he realized what the man was going to do. “Grab the girl.” He tried to grab Alan by his throat but was dropped before he could raise his arm, he heard his daughter screaming as she was dragged over to the group. She was now being held by a man who had no right hand and was smiling down at his little girl and licking his lips. “You’ll do nicely, even though your a bit flat I’m sure your cunt is nice and tight.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!!!!” Rage filled Rickard like he had never felt, his wounds suddenly became an after thought as he pushed himself up and charged the man holding his daughter. Before he even made it three steps he felt a blow on the back of his head, he groaned as he was kicked over onto his back by Alan. “I guess you're too much trouble to keep. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure that your daughter has plenty of moon tea. Can’t have her going home with a bastard in her belly can we?”

“I don’t know about that Alan.” The one armed man said as he sniffed Alys hair. “I always wanted to ruin a Highborn, you know how moon tea can be when seed is spilt multiple times in the same women.”

“I guess we’ll find out when news comes to Essos.” Alan then nodded to his man who pulled back his crossbow and pointed it down at Rickard. He turned to look at his daughter, she was crying in full force as her capture held her head and forced her to watch. “We’ll take good care of you girly. By the time we finish you might want to remain our little whore for the rest of your life. Would you like that? Would you like to spend your life on a bed in Essos popping our commoner children out of your noble womb? I bet you will.” The man then went to lick her cheek before he let out a sudden coughing fit. This drew Alan and the crossbowmen attention as they saw the man suddenly cough up blood. As he stood up they all saw what was the sudden cause, he had an arrowhead sticking out of his throat.

Before any of them were able to realize that they were under attack, Lord Rickards executioner let out a cry as an arrow found his own throat. The next thing the group knew a large form rushed out of the brush with a scream that echoed through the forest. “UMBER!!!” The form took off the head of one of the bandits with a battleaxe before turning and slashing another down the middle, cleaving him in half. “UMBER!!!” As the group turned and made ready to charge the attacker they turned as another on of their number gave another cry. One of the crossbowmen had been forced to the ground with a shield charge before a blade found its way into his heart. “FORRESTER!!!” The new attacker quickly engaged in a fierce duel with another of the bandits, who quickly found himself overwhelmed by his opponents fierce fighting style and fell to the ground when his throat was pierced.

Alan tried to gain control of his men but failed when another two fell to the ground, arrows in their throats. Seeming to understand that fighting was a lost cause, Alan sheathed his sword and quickly grabbed Alys from where she stood, frozen with shock at her captors death, and threw her over his shoulder. “I guess your my ticket out of here my Lady.” He mounted one of the remaining horses, Alys held in front of him, and turned to ride off when another arrow pierced the horses head. He and Alys were thrown from the dying animal, Alys bracing herself and landing near her father, Alan though landed in the middle of the road. As he stood he saw the archer who had killed at least a dozen of his men riding a horse. No he wasn’t riding it, he was standing with both feet on the horse in a crouched position as he shot his bow.

Alan quickly drew his sword and readied himself, the rider saw him and dropped his bow before pulling a short axe and sword, the rider then charged. As the horse began to grow close Alan readied to take the beasts legs but was unprepared for what the rider did next. As he neared the rider quickly turned his horse to the side but he did not stop his charge. He turned his feet on the saddle and jumped off his horse, Alan was too shocked to defend himself as the rider brought the axe down into his shoulder. He was forced to his back as the riders feet landed on his chest, he couldn’t breathe as the man now stood on his chest glaring down at him. “Please.” he cried, reaching up towards the man as the pain grew. “Please, mercy.”

“No.” The man then plunged the sword straight through his skull. Alan’s arm fell to his side as life left his body, his sins and crimes had finally caught up with him. Alys knelt over her father as she stared at the group of men that had saved them, but that didn’t mean they were here to help them.  _ “What it they killed them so they didn’t have to share their spoils.” _ As she began to panic, the men began to walk towards them making her grab her fathers dagger and point it at them. “D-d-d-d- Don’t you dare come closer” The rider then raised his hands in peace before pulling down his mask and hood, the man who Alys saw was like that from a story. Of the beautiful knight who rode into save the Princess from the evil Lord or Bandit, her shock caused the knife in Alys hands to droop as she stared at him. “I mean you know harm Lady Alys, my friends and I have been searching for that band for the last sennight now. They attempted to do at Last Hearth what they meant to do here.”

“They nearly stole my younger brother Ned when he in our own halls. My father ordered their capture.”

“Well, let us hope that your Lord father will be content with them being dead, uh Umber?”

“Shut up Asher.”

“If I may.” The form of Lord Rickard said as he tried to pick himself up. “What are your names?”

“Jon Umber”

“Asher Forrester”

“Jon Snow.” The last name caused Rickards eyes to widen, he knew that Ned had a bastard but he had not thought the lad would look like a prettier version of the man. He had heard about the things that Catelyn Tully, he refused to believe that woman was a Stark, had done to the boy. He had even returned to Karhold when he had been told of what happened when he was on his way to visit Winterfell with his children. He had wanted to see if his daughter could charm Robb Stark but after what he had been told he had wanted nothing to do with any women who would beat a child simply because he was better in the yard then her son. Now it was clear to him that the boy had long since risen past such things, he had heard the stories of what the boy had done at Last Hearth but now he had seen for himself what the boy could do. The boy could only have been slightly older than his own daughter and yet he had fought with such skill, they all had. The last that Rickard knew the boy was supposed to have been with his grandmother and the Mountain Clans, so what was he doing here with the Heir to Last Hearth and the second son of Lord Forrester.

“If we might ask Lord Karstark, will you accompany us back to Last Hearth? We would treat your wounds and send word for another escort to make from Karhold to escort you home.”

“That would be appreciated Heir Umber.”

“Tis nothing Lord Karstark.” Rickard watched as the trio of boys righted the wagon and began to unhook the pair of dead horse’s, putting the harnesses on their own steeds instead. As they worked, to recover what they could from his supplies, Alys slowly walked over to the bastard and pulled on his coat. “Is there something I can help you with Lady Alys?” His daughter looked down and hopped from one foot to the other as she tried to speak. “I was wondering,if you… if you were… Lord Stark's bastard son?” Rickard expected the lad to get angry, as most bastards did when their birth statues was brought up, but the lad just smiled. “Lord Stark is my father yes, why do you ask?” His daughter lightly blushed as she spoke. “I had not expected you to look the way you do.” The lad let out a soft laugh at that.

“And I had not thought that Lord Karstark’s daughter could be so lovely for someone so young. I guess we both learned something about each other today hmm?” His daughter went fully red in the face at his comment and began to stutter before running away and hoping in the wagon. The lad had laughed and quickly mounted his horse as the other two helped him into wagon next to his daughter, who was hiding her face in her hands. As they began to make their way towards Last Hearth his daughter kept throwing looks to the boy who had saved her. It was around an hour into the ride that she moved over to sit by him. “Father.” she said in a near whisper. “Yes Alys?”

“Do you think Jon would like to be my husband?”

* * *

**FLASHBACK ENDS**

* * *

Rickard still thought about that question, it had been asked with a child's innocence by a girl who had fallen for her own knight in shining armor. He had remained silent after his daughter’s question, not from anger at her wanting to marry a bastard, but because he had felt like he had been struck dumb. It had taken the group three days of near constant travel, stopping only when the horse’s needed to eat, before they reached Last Hearth. Greatjon had welcomed them with open arms and apologies that they had failed to stop the bandits at Last Hearth. He had waved the apology away and had thanked the Lord for his heirs help in stopping them. A few days after they had arrived Snow had left, staying that he needed it to return to Stonebreak Hill and his grandmother. His daughter had asked the boy to write her when he returned to his home, he had smiled before grabbing her hand and kissing it. He had thanked her for the permission to write to such a lovely woman, his daughter had turned red as an apple but she had smiled the rest of the day.

It was a few weeks after he arrived back at Karhold that he received a raven from Lord Hornwood asking if he wished to continue the betrothal. His daughter had already declared to her family that her husband would be Jon Snow and that she would marry no other man. While he had thought she would get other the crush that she had on the bastard she only seemed to grow more deeply in love with him. Every raven she received had her smiling like that first night all over again, before she would write him back. Now he was heading to Winterfell with her, she had demanded to come when word came that Snow would be there and had not taken no for an answer. Now he could only hope that Ned would agree to the marriage proposal that he had sent a year ago for the two to wed. He feared that his daughter might try some drastic measures if she thought the boy would be wed to another woman.  _ “I pity the lad more than anything, she has become like her mother in a sense that she’ll run his life for him because she thinks she knows what's best for him.” _ He simply prayed that all would be well and that the boy would not allow himself to be led around by his wife as he had been.

* * *

Aeron sat in the cells of Casterly Rock cursing Stannis Baratheon, their plans had been going perfectly. He and Victarion had successfully burned the great Tywin Lannister's fleet and sacked his port city. Euron had already begun to raid the Reach and his nephew Rodrik had been heading towards Seaguard. He and Victarion were supposed to be heading towards the Oldstones to reinforce his nephew but they had gotten greedy. They had raided the Southern coast of the Westerlands instead of heading straight for resupply at Pyke. They had been forced to turn back when they had been set on by the forces of House Crakehall. They had been fortunate to only sustain light damage to their longboats but it had still been their doom. They had spent to much time raiding, Stannis Baratheon had been able to rally the Royal fleet, as well as several ships from Oldtown, and set a trap. 

Stannis had waited for them with the Royal fleet several miles off the coast of Fair Isle, shocking both him and his brother. They had thought Stannis would take several more months in order to get from Dragonstone to the Western coast but the man was more paranoid than they thought. He must have launched the fleet the moment trouble had begun, it was the only way it could explain how he had made it so soon. He had quickly jumped from the  ** _Iron Victory_ ** to the  ** _Golden Storm_ ** and made to intercept a ship that held the banner of House Velaryon. Just as they had been about to clash the second half of the attack fleet had come from behind Fair Isle and smashed into their rear. He had tried to turn his ships around, but the  ** _Golden Storm_ ** had been hit in the hull by the ram of a Hightower ship. He had been thrown to the deck and nearly skewed by a Reachman who had jumped to his ship. 

One of his men had tackled the spearmen, before he could end his life, but the pair had been sent overboard. He had tried to stand and regain control of his men but several scorpion bolts had slammed into his hull and deck. The wood of his ship had cracked and splintered and he had fallen through one of the new holes near his mast and hit his head on the beams beneath. The last thing he had remembered, as darkness had taken him, was the sweet embrace of the Drowned God as he welcomed him. He had awoken in a cart that had ended up belonging to the guards of House Farman. They had shipped him to Lannisport where Tywin Lannister himself had met him on the burnt remains of the docks. He had been told that the only reason he would not be beheaded was to use as a bargaining tool.

“The damn fool doesn’t even realize that my brother would sell me out if it meant victory for the Iron Islands.” He had heard news from passing guards and servants during his stay at The Rock, they talked about his brothers escape from Stannis Baratheon and return to Pyke. His brother had lost nearly a third of the fleet in the ambush, but it was far from what they could have lost had Euron not been raiding around the Shield Islands, without the help of the Redwyne fleet the Royal fleet would be less able to combat them on the sea. He was drawn from his thoughts by a whisper in the darkness. “My Lord.” He turned to look from the opposite wall of his cell to see a man in Lannister armor standing at the door. “Gather yourself My Lord, we need to be away before dawn breaks.” 

Aeron smiled at the words, this man must be one of the many spies and saboteurs that had been sent from the Islands over the last several years. When Euron had devised the plan to sack Lannisport his elder brother Balon had held off in favor of increasing their chances of success. He had gathered grandchildren and great-grandchildren of thralls they had taken from the Greenlanders over the centuries to make a spy ring. Over fifty men and women had been sent all over the mainland to gather information and report each Kingdoms strength. They had been instrumental to the Rebellion and had earned their names as Ironborn. “I had thought you had withdrawn when we burned the Lannister fleet?”

“The three who were stationed in Lannisport headed back to the Islands several weeks ago, claiming that they had family they could live with now that they had lost everything. I and another remained here so as to report on the old lion, he has left to join the rest of the Kingdoms in the Riverlands. It is the best time for you to make your escape My Lord.” The man opened the cell door and had unlocked his cuffs as he spoke before handing him a change of clothes. Aeron rubbed his wrists as he smiled at the man. “What is the plan now?”

“We are to switch to plan three My Lord.” That caused Aeron to raise his eyebrows, plan three was only supposed to be used if they had failed on multiple fronts. “Why are we switching to plan three?” The man bowed his head before giving him a look of sympathy. “Your nephew, Lord Rodrik, had been slain at Seaguard by Lord Jason Mallister.”

“WHAT!!”

“My Lord you must be quiet.” Aeron calmed himself, as much as he could, and asked the question again. “Why did he not withdraw, he knew that if me and Victarion were unable to reach the Oldstones he was to return to Pyke.”

“What the survivors say is that he believed he did not need to wait for help from the other Lords. He ordered his entire force to attack in broad daylight, the Booming Tower was able to see them several miles out and rang it's great bell. Jason Mallister was able to form a defense that your nephew was unable to break. He lost over half his forces on just the beach, by the time the retreat was sounded almost two thirds of his men were dead with almost half of the remaining captured. The few that were able to escape have set course for the Cape Kraken and Blazewater Bay, they await your arrival to attack.”

“What other drawbacks have we suffered?”

“Our raiders were caught by soldiers of House Umber, they were unable to make it to Winterfell and take Starks daughter hostage.”

“Can we not just send another force?” At that the man grew angry. “Those damn fools didn’t listen to your brothers orders. While they wore patched furs and came from towards the wall they brought steel weapons with them.” Aeron rubbed his palms into his eyes at that, the plan had been to make it look like a Wildling kidnapping so as to waste the Starks man, and time, on a fruitless search. “I assume he has increased the guards around his children?”

“They each have four guards with them at all times and they have been forbidden from leaving Winterfell’s walls. Even his bastard has a guard with him, their preparations have been completed and the Northern host marches for High Heart with over ten thousand men.”

“Is there anything good to hear?” The man smirked at him. “Actually, Lord Eddard made an announcement while his Lords were gathered. His son rides for Moat Cailin to inspect it.”

“And this matters why?”

“He is taking only a small amount of men my Lord, in order to travel fast. They will also have Lord Stark's mother, who is an old and defenseless women.” Aeron smiled at the mans words, it might not have been their first choice in hostages but they would make it work. “Then we best get on our way, by this time next month we shall have Lord Stark's heir and mother at our mercy and the North shall be forced to behave themselves.” 

“Perhaps we can finally take back Bear Island, it was made for Ironborn after all.”

“It was indeed.” The pair laughed as they both donned their black cloaks, they had a boy and old women to capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have not had that much time to write lately because I was promoted to management of my store and now I am being called in, even on my days off, to work because we are short. I used to have three or four days a week off, now I'm lucky if I have one day a week that I don't have to go in and cover for someone. So sense this is affecting my writing schedule I have decided to push it back. From now on the chapters will come every two weeks instead of ten days. I'm sorry but if I want to get quality chapters out I have to take more time to write them and give my editor time to read them.
> 
> The next update will be two weeks from today, until then Huntsman out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read

So I have been getting a lot of messages asking if this story is abandoned it's not but my life and work has been crazy the last month. My sister had to go to the ER and almost had a stroke because one of her eyes had so much pressure behind it that it nearly popped out of her head. And so I've had to been watching my nephew for her and my brother-in-law, because that's how her dad died and we were super scared that she might not have made it. And that was not even two weeks ago I've had to work almost 6 days a week with one day rarely being off which is when I have to do all my house stuff. So I'm honestly just going to update whenever I have material. I'm sorry that it's inconvenient but life is like that.


	6. Update.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support.

So I know it's been five months and I got to say, thank you for the support. Four things I need to say.

1\. My sister is no longer under threat of possible stroke, so that's good.

2\. She my brother in law and my nephew have moved in with my mother while she has surgery to repair her diaphragm which was retorn when she was pregnant with my nephew. Morning sickness busted her stiches and its causing her esophagus to erode because of acid reflux. So I have been watching my nephew almost every day for her while my brother in law works and she is doing pre surgery work.

3\. I quit my job about three months ago, I realized that they were taking advantage of me when they had me written up when I refused to come in after I had worked 9 days straight, two of which were my days off. I talked with the owners of that branch of the store I worked at basically told me they didnt care about what happened in the store so long as they made money and dont get sued.

4\. I have gone back to school, that I had stopped going to so I could work full time almost four years ago. I'm going to begin training to be an EMT in the fall so I have been working out to get in better shape so I can handle the work load.

So that has been the last almost half year of my life. I have been writing some chapters but I haven't had the spark until around a week ago. So while I wont give an exact date I will start to update again in the next month or two when my sister has recovered and I dont spend most of my days studying and watching my nephew.

Until next time Huntsman out.

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you all think, I like the idea of someone pointing out neds hypocrisy, because I feel he let jon have a bad childhood so he would go to the wall. Also someone to fight Catelyn on her Southern ways infecting the North. Until next time, review, comment and bookmark. And maybe checkout my other stories.
> 
> Until then huntsman out.


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